Searching for Rodriguez
by financebabe
Summary: Stephanie is sent to train staff in Boston and Miami and required to work with the mysterious Rodriguez. What starts as a special assignment may quickly lead to something more, but what?
1. A Woman on a Mission

_The great Janet Evanovich created the Plum world that I am shamelessly using below._

_Jen (JenRar) thank you for agreeing to work as the beta on this story even though it won't feature a Babe ending. _

**Chapter 1 – A Woman on a Mission**

"Babe," Ranger spoke from behind me, causing me to swing my desk chair around with my hand over my heart.

I blinked a few times to calm down from being startled and to readjust to the stunning vision he made when standing there fully decked out as a badass and a sexy Cuban male.

He shook his head and chuckled. "If you can handle being alone with me, the sexy Cuban male would like to meet with you in his office."

Damn mouth and my inability to keep it shut. Something about Ranger had always short circuited my brain so that anything that passed through my mind seemed to blurt out for him to hear.

I followed him to his office and took a seat on the guest chair across from his desk as he shut the door and joined me in the chair next to mine.

"I have a special assignment for you," he began, selecting his words carefully.

I interrupted him before he could continue. "I'll do it."

He gave me another of his sexy smiles and shook his head. "You don't even know what it is. I think you should wait to accept until you know all the particulars."

"Doesn't matter," I assured him. "If you need me, whatever it is, I'll do it."

"It would require you to be out of town for an undetermined period of time," he warned.

"Define undetermined," I stupidly asked.

That earned me another laugh, but his face was so relaxed and open that I didn't care if he was laughing at my guffaw; it was a beautiful thing to see.

"If I could define undetermined, it wouldn't be undetermined, Babe," he replied, calming down a little. "I don't think it's possible to do this job well in less than two weeks, but I'd be shocked if it took more than two months," he offered.

"So I'll need to be out of town for somewhere between two weeks and two months?" I summed up.

"Yes," he agreed, before adding a few more details. "It might be possible for you to come back in the middle, depending on how things progress, but I can't guarantee that."

I sat back, still determined to do whatever it was Ranger needed, but wondering how my family and Joe would react. Joe and I were barely hanging on to any sort of relationship. It seemed every time we were together, we ended up arguing, and then we'd both come down with a whopping case of guilt and call to apologize, setting us up to repeat the cycle the following night. I think we both knew we were over, but neither of us wanted to be the one to break it off. Maybe this job opportunity would give me the ability to break up with Joe, and then leave town, making it impossible for him or his ever needy boys to talk me into reconciling. This might be the very thing I needed to take control of my love life once and for all.

"I'm okay with being gone," I assured him.

"What about the cop?" Ranger asked, trying to point out the fact that I should take some time to consider how this would affect my life in Trenton.

"Joe went to Philadelphia on assignment last month and didn't bother to call and let me know he was gone until the third day of his absence. I don't consider how he feels about me leaving to be important right now," I bit out, sounding more bitter than I was. In fact, having Joe out of town had been a bit of a relief. "Besides," I continued, softening my tone a little, "I think this might give me the excuse I need to break it off with Joe, and then leave to keep him from trying to change my mind."

"You sure you want that?" Ranger pushed. It struck me as odd, because Ranger rarely asked for details about my relationship with Joe.

I looked down to collect my thoughts, "Yeah, I want that, but I've been too scared to go through with it."

"My Babe doesn't do scared," Ranger said in a tender voice.

I jerked my eyes back up to meet his. "You've got another woman out there that you call Babe?" I demanded. "Because I feel like my life is one obstacle to be afraid of after another."

"Trust me; one of you is all I can handle," Ranger said with a laugh. Then he added, "And even though your life may have more than its fair share of danger, you don't cower in fear. You never have. Your courage is one of the things the guys and I appreciate most about you."

"I don't know if I'd call it courage or stubborn insistence in not letting the world tell me what was going to happen," I corrected him, "but thanks."

"So for this assignment, I'd need you and another of the guys to spend a period of time in Boston to perform some tasks, and then go down to Miami and do the same thing in that office, as well," he told me, cleverly speaking in code so that I had no clue what I'd be doing.

"What tasks would I be doing?" I asked him, getting a little nervous about why he wasn't just spelling out what he wanted.

"Trenton is by far my most profitable office. On paper, there is no reason for that to be true. The security and monitoring side of things does better in both of the other offices, so the difference in income is completely from the BEA and recovery jobs we do. I've been spending an equal amount of time in all three locations lately, and I've been able to deduce two things that might account for the difference," he told me in what was a long speech by his usual standards.

"What's different?" I asked, hanging on his every word.

"Trenton has a much more advanced search team for background checks and information gathering, and it is the only office that uses distractions as a method for catching skips," he said, making me smile.

I was involved in both of those things. Finally, I was in a position to be helpful to Ranger's business in order to repay him for all he'd done for me.

"I would like you to travel to Boston and train the guys in how you perform a search, aside from the basic instruction they already know. I want you to try and teach them how to follow a paper trail to get better information, before running off, trying to capture someone without all the background flushed out," he told me in his commanding voice he uses as boss.

"And I'd like you to work with the woman they've hired to begin running distractions. I want her to see you run a few, and then I want you to assist her in performing some to be sure she is capable of handing the work."

I would have loved someone to have done this for me when I first started doing distractions. Both of these tasks seemed manageable, so I quickly told him, "Of course I'll do it. I'd love to help in anyway I can."

"There's one more thing, Babe, and this might be the more important part of your assignment," Ranger added in a softer voice, sounding less sure of himself.

"What else can I do?" I quickly volunteered, wondering why he seemed so worried about this final part.

"I want Rodriguez to go with you," he informed me.

I shrugged my shoulders, unsure of why this was so important. "I've never worked with him," I told Ranger. "In fact, I was starting to think you guys made him up just to give me extra work without me getting angry at you for dumping stuff in my inbox."

He grinned at the thought of that. "No, he's real, but over the last three years, he's withdrawn so that he doesn't go out much and he rarely deals with people. He runs searches as thoroughly as you do, but he only works at night, when the office is empty. He respects the work you do, so I think you'll get along professionally."

I was confused about that last part. "How is getting along professionally any different than just getting along?"

The corner of Ranger's lip curled up, but it didn't turn into a full smile. I was amusing him. "Rodriguez used to be a force of nature. Five years ago, he had the best skip capture rate of anyone in the RangeMan organization, including me."

Wow, the idea that anybody could be better than Ranger at capturing the bad guys was a little hard to accept.

"But some things happened, and he stopped working in that side of the business and started spending more and more time alone. Now, he's turned into a first class computer geek, which would be all right, if it made him happy, but it doesn't. I was hoping…" Ranger stopped talking and ran his fingers through his hair, still short from his last mission. It was a sign of frustration and seemed completely out of place on the man I thought defined confidence.

"What do you want me to do to help Rodriguez?" I asked, thinking I understood what he was after.

This time, the upturned corner of his lips took over his whole mouth, and he smiled. "I want you to do what you do. Talk to him; try to draw him back out of his shell. I want you to keep him involved in this assignment and not let him hide in the shadows. I think he needs something huge to snap him back into life, and you are the only thing I haven't tried that might fit that category."

I decided not to be insulted by the fact he'd just told me I was huge. I mean, I knew I had to lie back on my bed and suck in my stomach to button my jeans, but I did get them closed, so there was no reason to pick on the couple of extra pounds I was carrying.

"Hell, Stephanie," he said, using my full name and doing the frustrated hair rubbing again. "Rodriguez used to be the fifth in the core team, and we want to help him, but everything we've tried has failed, and I'm at a loss about what to do."

"Is there any reason to think he's dangerous? I mean, if he's been closed up for a long time, is he likely to snap and freak out if you force him to be around people?" I wondered.

Ranger grimaced at my question. "The Rodriguez I knew would never do that, but he's like a different person now. I don't think it's likely, but just to be sure, you two will be working together in the offices so that you can be protected by the staff in both locations."

"Who else knows about this?" I pushed, needing the full picture.

"Tank, Lester, and Bobby here, plus Raoul, who runs Miami, and Angel, who heads up the office in Boston," he replied. "They all know Rodriguez, and we all agreed that this was the best bet of reaching him in a way that he might accept."

At least there would be someone in each of the offices that I could go to if I thought Rodriguez was going to crack.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I realize asking you to secretly befriend someone and try to draw them back into the land of the living isn't the easiest thing to do, but we all agreed that if you couldn't reach him after everything you've done for the guys here, then we're going to give up hope of ever getting the guy we once knew back," he confessed in a defeated tone.

"I'll do it," I assured him, placing my hand on his arm as a physical pledge of my promise.

Ranger put his hand on mine and opened his mouth, but shut it and looked away. Whatever thought he'd had wasn't going to be voiced aloud. Instead, we sat together for a few moments with his hand on mine, surrounded by a comfortable silence.

He cleared his throat in a slightly nervous gesture and spoke in his boss voice again. "I'll be doubling your usual salary for the time you are away, and RangeMan will pay your rent and utilities, as well as provide rat sitting services for that caged beast you insist on keeping. You'll have your own private apartment in both offices and a corporate credit card to pick up all your food, snacks, nights on the town, and other needs while you're on assignment."

"That's too much," I interrupted him.

"It's the same thing I'm giving Rodriguez," Ranger coolly explained in a voice that said he was going to do it anyway, so I needed to just accept it and move on.

"But why double my salary, just to do the work I do here for half that amount?" I pushed, uncomfortable with him doing this.

"Ah, but you aren't doing the same thing. You will be training and supervising, which is different than what you do here; plus, there is the whole extra part with Rodriguez," he pointed out.

I put my hand up to stop him. "I'll train the staff as a favor to you, so I shouldn't get paid to do a favor, or it ceases to be something I'm giving you. And the part with Rodriguez…" I struggled to find the right words for what I wanted to say. "I'll treat him the same way I do the guys here. If that helps him somehow, then I'll be lucky to have another Merry Man to hang out with. But I'm not befriending him in order to get money. That would cheapen any conversations we have, and I'd be uncomfortable with that. I'm not a shrink; I would think if you guys haven't been able to get through to him, then I'm not so sure what I can do that you couldn't. I'm willing to try, but you can't increase my paycheck because of that."

"You realize you're negotiating to get paid less while doing more, right?" he spoke with amusement.

"Are you going to pay Rodriguez's rent while he's gone?" I wondered.

"RangeMan does it anytime we send someone out of town for more than a week," he explained.

"Well, then, you can do that, but you aren't paying me a penny more than you usually do," I said in a firm voice.

The look on his face told me he was going to double my take home pay anyway, so I would need to stay on top of any direct deposits while I was out of town, in order to complain about it if he tried to pull a fast one, thinking I wouldn't notice.

Ranger raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to say the rest of what I was thinking, but I decided to be mature and stick my tongue out as a challenge instead.

He leaned forward, and his whole demeanor changed, as though a switch had been flipped, changing him from boss man to sexy man. "The next time you do that, I'll consider it a challenge to show you a better use for your mouth than childish gestures."

If only he would, I thought, with a mental image of his mouth on mine.

"Babe," he groaned.

"Did I say that out loud?" I wondered. I could have sworn my lips had stayed shut that time.

Ranger chuckled again and assured me, "No, but it was written all over your face while you moaned."

I debated sticking out my tongue once more because of how he was laughing at me, and to test his threat, but he got serious and tucked a curl behind my ear. "You make a man wish for things he shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't you?" I pressed, wishing for once he would explain to me why he forced distance between us, despite the obvious attraction.

He looked away and let his hand fall from my hair. "We make decisions as young men that carry consequences for the rest of our lives. I don't exactly regret the ones I've made, but there are times when I wish it could be different."

"You're Batman," I pointed out. "You can do anything."

He looked at me for a long moment, making the back of my neck tingle even more. "I'm no superhero, but I love that you think I am."

He looked away and took his time gathering his thoughts. "If you are still willing to go to Boston and Miami, I'll set everything up. How soon can you leave?"

I needed to pack, which would probably involve some shopping, I would need to get Rex ready for his stay at RangeMan with his uncles, and then I'd need to talk to my parents and Joe. Although, maybe I could skip Joe and just send him a postcard from the road...

I realized Ranger was waiting for a real response, so I suggested, "It's Friday now. Would Monday be okay?"

He considered what I'd said and nodded. "That's fine; I'll make all the arrangements. You and Rodriguez will fly on out on the jet from the private airstrip, so you can come here Monday at 0700 to depart."

"Um, 0700, as in seven in the morning, you expect me to be in the office, ready to travel?" I hoped I could talk him into letting us leave later.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, not giving anything away.

"I was hoping that we might not have to leave before nine or maybe ten," I hesitantly suggested.

Both of Ranger's eyebrows shot up at the idea of not leaving until ten. "How about we compromise, and I swing by to pick you up at 0730? That way, you don't have to drive over here _and_ you get an extra thirty minutes?"

I didn't think it was that much better, but then I wouldn't have to worry about my car taking up space in the RangeMan garage while I was gone, so I agreed.

"Will I get to meet Rodriguez before we leave?" I asked, hopeful. It would be nice to know who I would be working with over the next few weeks.

Ranger made a non-committal shrug with his shoulder and stood up to go behind his desk. "I'll suggest it, but don't be disappointed if he says no."

"I guess there's always the flight up to Boston to get to know each other," I reflected as an alternative.

Ranger picked up a black credit card and held it out to me. "Take this, and use it. I know there are things you will need for this trip, and RangeMan will cover the full cost of everything you need."

"I can't take that..." I stepped back, as though he were offering me a snake to carry.

He let out a heavy breath, which was the Ranger equivalent of an eye-roll and sigh all mixed into one. "I'm serious. Everything from the headache medicine, clothes, a new suitcase, and an emergency stash of Tasty Cakes that you can't get in Boston should all be charged to RangeMan."

I took the card and slipped it in my pocket, and then I thought better of it and pulled it back out to put in my purse when I sat down at my desk. As tight as these jeans were, I was afraid the card would snap in half from the pressure when I leaned over.

"Bobby is going to want to talk to you before you go, as well," he threw out when I turned to leave.

"Why?" I asked, confused about the odd request to see Bobby, when I was completely healthy.

"Everybody has to check in with him before they leave town on an assignment," he explained succinctly.

As long as everybody else did it, I was okay with it.

This time, I got the door open before he spoke once more. "Thank you, Stephanie."

I shook my head. "No price, remember?" I replied, before walking out of his office.

I went to my cubicle on autopilot and thought over what I'd been asked to do. It didn't seem that hard, and as long as Rodriguez wasn't outright mean to me, it might be fun to see some different places and meet some of the RangeMan family in other cities. I'd heard about them for years, so it would be nice to have faces to go with names.

Then, as I thought back over the discussion with Ranger, I felt that familiar ache in my chest. I loved Ranger, I was convinced of that fact, but he had made it abundantly clear that despite how he might feel about me, we would never be more than we were now. I was tired of the push and pull of the men in my life.

Joe wanted to pull me out of my life to change me into what he thought I should be. And Ranger thought my life was fine, but he continually pushed me away from him. The more I thought of them, the better this upcoming assignment sounded. I could get out of town and away from the men who said they loved me, even though neither of them really wanted me.

With that firmly in mind, I stood up and walked to the elevator. While I was tapping my foot, waiting for the elevator to arrive to take me down to the third floor to Bobby's medical office, I decided this was my chance to make some changes – not just with the men of my life, but with me, too. I was tired of being a toy, entertainment, and a pushover. I was tired of being the brunt of jokes, the betting jackpot of the Trenton PD, and the person famous all over town as the woman who blew things up.

When the elevator dinged its arrival, I squared my shoulders and got in. After this assignment was over, I swore I wasn't going to be the same person I was when it started.

Look out, world. Here comes a woman on a mission.


	2. The Guys

_I'm still using JE's characters. She deserves all the credit._

_Jen (JenRar) writing is such a joy knowing you are there to help me clean up my rambling. Thank you for working so hard as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 2 - The Guys**

"Hey, Bomber. What brings you down here?" my favorite medical professional asked as I walked into his office.

"Ranger said I needed to check in with you before I could leave for Boston and Miami on assignment," I explained, not wanting him to worry that I was injured.

His grin lit up his face. "You agreed to do it?"

I realized he wasn't just asking about the training for searches and distractions. Nobody would be this excited about that.

"I agreed to try." I wanted him to lower his expectations. I still didn't see what good working with me for a few weeks would do for a self exiled tough guy.

His eyes were still dancing, but he did cut the wattage down some on his smile. "That's all we can hope for." Then he motioned for me to come closer, and he pulled out something from a desk drawer.

"Okay. Standard check up for all staff before going into the field, away from the office," he explained, as he grabbed a pen and started filling in the spaces on the paper in front of him.

"Anything going on with you health wise?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," I reported, glad to have my Grandma Mazur's genes that seemed to keep me healthy all the time.

Bobby set his form down and grabbed his gear to check my blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. He asked about headaches, dizziness, immunizations, and how I was sleeping. He was all business in full medic mode.

He made a few notes on the paper he'd begun, and then turned around and asked, "Birth control?"

My eyes must have shown my shock. "Do you ask this of all the guys, too?"

Bobby grinned. "Actually, I don't ask. I just assume they are having sex, and I give them a box of condoms with a warning that they'd better use them, because I refuse to do testing for STDs when they get back to Trenton."

I laughed at the idea of Bobby threatening Ranger or Tank to come back clean, but pulled myself together pretty quickly. I confessed that I was on quarterly depo shots and had gotten one from my OB just four weeks ago, so even if this assignment went long, I would be okay.

Then he put the paperwork aside and sat down on the rolling stool. "Steph, we really appreciate you agreeing to this."

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the look of hope he was giving me. I felt as though the expectation was that after spending a couple weeks with me, Rodriguez would suddenly open up and would miraculously be his old self again.

I needed to level with him so that they wouldn't be too disappointed if Rodriguez came back exactly the way he was now. "Look, Bobby, I don't know what you guys are expecting, but I'm just an ordinary person. I mean, I don't have any training in helping people, so I'm not entirely sure what I can do."

"We don't want you to _do_ anything. Just be yourself," Bobby quickly assured me. "We've all seen you work with the new guys until they finally give in and open up to you. The longest hold out to your charm so far has been Hal, and that wasn't entirely his fault. He's painfully shy, and you did turn his own stun gun against him. I don't think it was so much that he was immune to you as it was he was afraid you'd zap him again and we'd never let him hear the end of it."

I laughed, remembering how shy Hal used to be around me. Then I'd gotten a flat tire and he was the closest one to me, so Tank had sent him over to help me as my own form of a RangeMan roadside assistance benefit. I'd noticed his knuckles were scraped and felt the need to ask about it, but I'd worried that he wouldn't talk to me without elevating his blood pressure to a dangerous level, so I'd just told him what was wrong. After he'd gotten the spare tire from the trunk and the jack from a hidden compartment in the back I didn't even know existed, he'd set about lifting the car to take off the useless tire. Once he'd been ready to put the replacement on, I'd reached over and touched his hand, asking if he'd show me how to do it so I could take care of it myself if it ever happened again.

He'd nodded, stood up, and then talked me through tightening up the lugs and lowering the jack. I'd been feeling pretty good about my mechanic skills and had decided to push my luck by asking if he'd follow me to Al's to drop off the car, since the spare wasn't a full-size tire and I knew I wasn't supposed to drive on it for very long. I'd gotten a single nod as a response, and he'd waited as I'd talked to Al, who'd promised my car could be ready in an hour.

I'd gotten into the truck with Hal and asked if he could wait with me until my car was ready, to which I'd gotten another silent head movement. Then I'd looked across the street and seen an ice cream stand, so I'd jumped out and motioned that he should follow me. We'd run over for me to get us both a frozen treat. I'd asked what he wanted, and he'd tried to refuse anything, so I'd leaned over to the order window and requested two chocolate ice cream cones.

Hal had stepped over and said, "Just one chocolate cone, please."

I'd been about to give him a piece of my mind for overruling me, but then he'd glanced over and added, "And the second one can be strawberry."

Sitting on a bench watching cars go by, licking quickly melting ice cream, I'd gotten him to tell me how he'd scraped his knuckles. After that, his guard was down and talking was easy. I'd finally gotten through to Hal, but even that had taken literally two months to accomplish.

"So if things don't go well with Rodriguez, should I try zapping him, too?" I joked, to break the tension that had settled in.

Bobby rolled his stool over closer to where I was sitting on the exam table and put his broad hands on top of my jeans-covered thighs. "I wouldn't suggest it. I mean, he's different now, but at one time, he had the heart of a warrior, with instincts unlike anything I'd ever seen, so you need to assume he's still capable of inflicting great harm and not physically push him into a position to act off of reflex alone."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not like I attack you guys on a regular basis. I understand not trying to scare somebody with multiple guns on his body."

"Rodriguez's gun isn't his most lethal weapon," Bobby corrected me. When I tried to raise an eyebrow to ask what the weapon was I _should_ fear from him, Bobby told me, "It's his hands. That man is a sparring genius and a hand to hand combat god. You don't need to pull a gun on somebody if you can literally reach out and snap their neck."

I swallowed hard and wondered what in the hell I'd gotten myself into. I was going to be working closely with a guy that was perhaps unstable, capable of snapping my neck, and I wouldn't have any of the guys I knew and trusted around to help me if I needed it.

Bobby must have noticed my panic, as his hands started moving up and down my legs to get me to focus on him, instead of the multiple scenarios running through my mind of how this assignment could end with me being injured…or worse.

"We wouldn't be asking if we truly thought you'd be in any danger. But everything else we've tried has failed, so we were hoping a little acceptance and coming up against someone who is so refreshingly forthright and caring might pull him from his shell a little. Nobody is expecting him to come back asking to go back out in the field full time and ready to knock some heads together for fun, but just to have him acknowledge us and maybe leave the building during the day at some point would be a relief." Bobby explained.

"You're worried about him. If this trip doesn't pull him out of whatever funk he's in, are you thinking that one day, you'll check on him and he won't be…that he will have…" I couldn't bear to say the words, but it seemed to me, Bobby's concern wasn't that I would get hurt, but that Rodriguez would take his own life.

"That guy doesn't know how to give up, so I don't really think he'd do anything rash, but we don't know how else to reach him," he added, obviously trying to sound more sure of that answer than it came across.

We talked for a while longer, and by the time we were finished, we were laughing and joking like we always did. I hopped off the table when he took my paperwork and put it in my file.

Then he turned around and looked at me with what he thought was his blank face. It would have worked, but I could see one corner of his mouth was tighter than the other, which told me he was struggling to keep that side from rising in a smile. He knew what I was about to say, and even before the words left my mouth, I was amusing him.

"Okay. I let you do all your checks; now, where's my lollipop?" I asked, holding out my hand expectantly.

"You know, none of the guys get candy for coming down here, even when I'm stitching them up from bullet holes," he countered.

I shrugged. "It's not my fault they don't know how to negotiate. Now, where's my candy?"

There was a knock at the door, and a man I didn't recognize stood there with a perfect blank face on. He was dressed in all black and had a definite vibe warning people not to mess with him.

Bobby lifted his chin as a greeting to the stranger and said, "I'll be right with you, man. I just have to give my most difficult patient a little something for being good on the table."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I wasn't difficult. It's not like I pulled a Binkie and passed out on you."

We both laughed as he caved and got me a Tootsie Roll pop. "I've never understood how that guy can handle blood, gore, and everything a crime scene throws at him, but every year when I give him a flu shot, he hits the deck."

"See – I'm easy compared to that," I said with a wave and a smile.

The stranger at the door stood back to give me a wide berth to pass by. He didn't seem to be interested in me greeting him, so I pulled the wrapper off my candy and began happily sucking my treat just beyond the doorway.

"Bomber, get out of here with that before all the guys come down to watch you eat it," Bobby called out.

I understood the attraction to the noises. Lester had recorded me eating at Pino's once, and when he'd played it back, I'd had to agree it did sound like the soundtrack to a hot porno movie. But the visual to go with the lollipop, I didn't understand. I wasn't a fool – guys love watching girls shove things in their mouths, but this wasn't a banana or a popsicle; it was just a little ball on a stick. Silly boys.

Back in my cubicle, I opened a new search and began running the programs for the newest batch of Rodriguez requests that had magically appeared while I was away from my desk. While the computer was thinking, I picked up the phone and called my mother.

She sounded harried, and there was a loud crash in the background that nearly drowned out her hello.

"Mom?" I said carefully, wondering if I'd dialed the right number.

"Oh, Stephanie," my mother replied, sounding relieved to hear from me.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, as another blast of noise came through the receiver.

"Yes, dear, of course it is. Mother has decided to learn a new hobby, and she's practicing," my mom explained, as though everything was normal.

"What's the hobby?" I wondered, as something else broke in the background.

"She's trying to spin plates, but learning how to keep them going so they don't fall and break has been a challenge," Mom said with a little hitch at the end, telling me watching her dishes shattering on the floor was beginning to eat at her.

"I was wondering if I could come over for dinner tomorrow night?" I asked, curious if my arrival would be seen as a good thing or not in light of Grandma Mazur's newest scheme.

"Of course, and bring Joseph with you. We haven't seen him in a long time. I'll make lasagna," she replied. When another plate fell to its doom, she added, "I have to get the broom. We'll see you before six," she added, before hanging up on me.

I didn't really want to see Joe, but after thinking about it, telling him I didn't want to see him anymore during the confusion of one of my family's dinners did seem like a good idea. If he got mad, there was no way he'd risk my Dad getting worked up or Grandma Mazur coming to my defense.

With that thought, I picked up the phone and dialed Joe's cell number. It went straight to voicemail, which was a relief, so I made myself sound as upbeat as possible to leave a message. "Hey, Joe. It's Stephanie. I'm going to be busy tonight, but Mom invited us both for lasagna tomorrow night. She's expecting to see us before six, so I'm hoping you're free to meet me there."

With that done, I glanced down and saw it was nearly quitting time. I decided I'd go home and clean my apartment, including doing some laundry so that I wasn't leaving a complete mess behind. Then tomorrow, I'd see if Lula wanted to go shopping so that I had everything I'd need for the assignment. Dinner with my parents would take care of Saturday night, and Sunday I'd use for getting Rex squared away and packing.

Feeling impressed with my attack plan, I looked down and saw my search had finally finished. Reluctantly, I decided if I was going to be out of town for a period of time, I should probably finish the work I had in my hand, so I got out of leaving mode and jumped into the research.

Two hours later, I was starving and tired of reading about the criminal activities of some of the guys we were going after. Honestly, were people so slow these days, they'd forgotten the difference between right and wrong? But the work was done, so I put it in my finished pile, proud of the fact I had caught up.

"You still here?" I heard Lester ask from behind me.

"No, this is the new blow up doll version of Stephanie. To see the real thing, come back on Monday," I teased, knowing Lester could handle my sarcasm.

I didn't expect him to yank me from my chair and throw me over his shoulder, before taking off down the hallway toward the control room.

"What are you doing!" I screeched, hanging upside down with my eyes coming close to that wonderfully tight ass.

"You said you were a blow up doll, which means I can play with you, and I am definitely in the mood to play," he replied, swatting my rear end a couple of times.

Before I could respond, the door to the stairwell opened, and I waited, hoping whoever it was would come to my rescue and get Les to set me down.

The mystery man stopped, probably trying to figure out exactly what was happening, and then stepped way around where we were to walk away. I lifted my head to catch a glimpse, but all I could see was the backside. Admittedly, it was a nice looking backside, but since it was covered in standard RangeMan black, I didn't know who it was.

Realizing it didn't matter because I was still hanging over the shoulder of a man who was six foot five inches tall, I decided to play a little with my captor.

"You'd better put me down Lester, or I swear I'll make you regret it," I threatened.

"Oh, Beautiful, I'd love for you to dole out anything you want to. I could live with a little regret if you'd make it worth my while," he said, calling my bluff.

I pulled his t-shirt from the waist of his pants, deciding to try yanking his boxers into a wedgie. I'd seen him answer the door to his apartment in nothing but a pair of cotton boxers, so I figured he'd have them on now.

"Whatcha doing back there, Stephanie?" he asked with great amusement.

"Exacting my revenge," I replied, shutting my eyes to shove my hand between his smooth skin and the waist of his pants.

"Oh, Beautiful, I love how you play," he said in near hysterics.

It was only after I was well past where his boxers should have appeared that I realized he might have answered the door wearing them, but when he was dressed for action, he went commando. I was basically rubbing his ass.

I was glad to have the excuse of hanging upside down to blame for my face matching a firetruck, but in truth, I was mortified. How could I explain groping Lester's rear end, skin on skin? I decided I needed to save at least a little face, so I used my middle finger and thumb nails to pinch some of the skin, getting him to yell out, "Ouch! Shit, woman, what are you doing back there?"

"I told you to put me down," I replied with a laugh, before moving my hand over and pinching the other cheek so he'd match.

I could hear Woody and Cal in the control room laughing and knew once he bent down to put my feet on the floor, I'd won this round with Lester.

"You are a force of nature, you know that, right?" he asked rubbing his backside and stepping back.

"Hey, it's not my fault you don't wear underwear," I replied without thinking.

"You were going to yank them up, weren't you?" he pushed, making me regret my comment. When I didn't answer, he laughed once more and said, "Your skills might be different from ours, but man… When it comes to fighting, you don't mind going below the belt, do you?"

He almost sounded proud about that.

"I do what has to be done to try and keep you in line," I replied. Then I thought about his below the belt comment and added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go wash my hands. I know where they've been and can't imagine how much scrubbing needs to be done."

Les put his hands over his heart and pretended to be wounded. I realized that while getting away from my crazy family and Joe was going to be a relief, I was going to miss my guys. I hadn't thought about that as a drawback from taking this assignment.

When I returned with freshly cleaned hands, I decided to pull my office together, since I didn't plan on returning for a while. The searches I had finished were missing, but there was a sticky note on my laptop, reminding me to take my computer for the trip. It looked a little sloppy to be from Ranger, but I didn't think anyone else knew about my trip, so I ducked beneath my desk to pull out the power cord.

While I was on my hands and knees under the desk, I heard the unmistakable sound of Tank's deep voice. "Little Girl, we're all going to miss you, but this image right here is enough to make me want to go with you to Boston."

I couldn't help but lower my shoulders, which gave the appearance of raising my rear end, and then I shook it a little. I felt his footsteps thundering down the hallway, after a whispered, "Sweet Jesus," floated my way.

I got the cable free and sat down to laugh. I'd known Tank for three and a half years, and that was the first time he'd ever made a lewd or suggestive comment to me. I didn't know what had put him in such a good mood, but it was fun to tease him.

While crawling back from underneath the desk, I tried to stand up too quickly and banged my head hard enough to make little white dots appear in front of my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Manny asked, as though my pain had caused him to manifest himself in front of me.

I was still rubbing the back of my head, no doubt flushed with embarrassment and trying to keep from swearing over my own stupidity. "I'm fine," I said unconvincingly.

He knelt down and pushed my hands off the sore spot, to plant a kiss there instead. "I can't have my wife being injured with nobody to kiss it and make it better."

"Manuel Ramos, you're incorrigible," I said with a smile.

Lester had heard our conversation from the next cubicle over and popped up to say, "If you don't think he can handle it, I'll gladly kiss whatever was injured."

"You guys are lucky there's not labor board investigator here, or you'd all be attending harassment seminars to work on your co-worker interaction skills," I teased them.

I'd never actually accuse any of the guys of harassing me, but sometimes, it was a fun ace in the hole to pull out. Luckily, they all knew me well enough to know it was nothing more than an empty bluff.

Manny gave me another kiss to the head and left as silently as he'd come. I crawled out a little more carefully and pulled the rest of the things I'd need into the leather laptop case that had appeared magically. When I picked up the bag, I saw there was another stack of requests from Rodriguez, and I wished he'd brought them himself so I could've met him before we had to work together. Typically, whoever was delivering the mail brought me his paperwork, so I figured there was another of the guys smiling at my lack of grace, having seen the whole episode where I nearly knocked myself out.

On second thought, maybe it was a good thing Rodriguez hadn't delivered them. The last thing I'd want is for his initial impression of me to be of a klutzy dimwit who was only good for flirting and not any sort of real work. That would have been an embarrassing way to meet my new work partner for the foreseeable future.


	3. A Mother's Love

_I receive no money for the use of the Plum characters below. JE gets the credit and the goods. I just get to have a little fun._

_Jen (JenRar) you've been such a wonderful gift as the beta on this story. Thanks for being willing to work on one with a different leading man._

**Chapter 3 – A Mother's Love**

I loved a good adventure, but getting ready for one was a pain in the ass. I had gone through the hassle of cleaning my apartment after work on Friday, but since I'd been laying things out that I might need on my trip today, it looked like my closet and dresser had exploded, totally doing away with the evidence that my home had been freshly scrubbed just hours before.

It was impossible to pack for this trip. I mean, Boston would need some long pants, some distraction outfits, and the standard RangeMan uniforms. But Miami would need shorts, swimsuits, a different caliber of distraction outfit, and the Miami RangeMan uniforms, which were still black, but made out of a lighter type of cotton and the shirts were squared off at the bottom and worn untucked. All of these clothes and my bathroom essentials would require three suitcases, and I knew I needed to keep it at two so I could handle it all myself and not need to ask for help.

I glanced at the clock and saw I had fifteen minutes to get to my parents' house, so I threw down the two different little black dresses I had been holding, figuring I'd have to decide which one to bring after dinner, or I'd be late and ruin the meal.

I pulled up to my parents' house with three minutes to spare. Joe's Jeep was already at the curb, but he was still sitting in it, waiting for me before going in. Some people might call that being a gentleman, but I knew better. He just didn't want to have to put up with my family for a minute longer than necessary, and not at all without me there as a buffer. I didn't blame him, really. I was hoping him being there would make my announcement that I was leaving for a while a little easier to make.

"Hey, Cupcake," Joe said as I caught up with him on the sidewalk. He gave me a quick kiss hello, and we walked side by side up to the porch. "Everything okay?" he asked, probably worried about my cryptic message inviting him.

"Yeah," I assured him, hoping that was true. "Thanks for coming."

He smiled that crooked smile at me, giving me a flashback to the eighteen-year-old fast talker that had convinced me no one would ever know if we got naked and had sex behind the pasty counter at the bakery. That hopeful face told me I was in trouble. He was expecting a very happy ending to the night, and I was going to blindside him in front of my family. Oh great... Now I had guilt on top of a never ending to-do list. Maybe I should have let Ranger double my pay after all, to make up for all the extra work this assignment was already causing.

Before we could knock, the front door opened, and my mother motioned for us to come in. "Why are you just standing on the porch like that?" she asked. "The neighbors will see you and wonder why you don't want to come in." She continued mumbling under her breath as she went briskly into the kitchen to finish dinner.

Grandma Mazur was coming down the stairs, dressed in spandex pants with leg warmers and two tank tops that were too big and sliding off her shoulder on one side. Her hair had been dyed a soft shade of pink, resembling a piece of bubble gum. "Hey, granddaughter," she greeted me with a kiss.

"What's going on?" I asked, hoping she would explain the flashback to the eighties fashion she was sporting.

"I'm in training," she replied, clicking her dentures the way she did when she was excited about something.

My mother called us to eat before I could find out the rest of the story. But as soon as the food began to go around the table, Grandma picked up her story.

"I met me a new man at the Senior Center. Elmer was a circus performer and wants to get back into performing, so I'm working on an act, too, so that we can do it together and live on the road," she explained.

Dad mumbled something about buying her ticket to leave, but since he hadn't looked up from his plate, I assumed he hadn't intended her to hear him. He'd always made side comments at dinner, and this was the first time it had ever crossed my mind that my inability to keep a private thought in my head might have come from him. He wasn't acting like he was aware that he'd said that out loud.

"What kind of act are you working on?" I pushed, hoping the center of attention would stay on her and make this meal much easier.

"Right now, I'm spinning plates, but it's a lot harder that it seems and the things keep falling off. I'm going to give it another day of trying, and if I can't get it, then I'm going to jump to throwing knives. I can use Elmer as my assistant and try to get them as close to his body as possible without hitting anything I might want to use later." Another click of her dentures told me exactly what she might want from poor Elmer later.

"What kind of circus performer was he?" I wondered.

"He was a clown," she replied between bites of lasagna. "He used to squeeze into one of those tiny cars, and he'd do other stuff to distract the audience if something went wrong with one of the other acts. I had no idea how complicated being in a circus was, but apparently, it's quite an adventure," she finished, obviously thrilled with the new interest. "Of course, the way he learned to contort his body to make room for all the other clowns in the car has come in handy. He can bend all the way over, and when he takes his—"

"Mother!" my mom interrupted. "I don't think we need to hear about how Mr. Elmer is flexible over dinner."

Grandma wagged her eyebrows in a move that suddenly made me think of Lester. "That's right. The way he can move is definitely more of a dessert and hot beverage conversation."

"God save us all," my dad mumbled, reaching for the wine to top off his glass.

"If you switch to throwing knives, you won't try it on Elmer until you get the hang of it first, right?" I asked, feeling the need to be clear.

"How else will I know if I'm good at it?" she replied, making me realize her plan would include multiple trips to the ER to patch up her new boyfriend.

"Can't you use something else as a stand in for him until you are confident that the knives will go where you want them to?" I asked, trying to protect this elderly man, who probably had no idea just how close he was to being stabbed in our back yard.

"But how will I know if I'm close, but not hurting him if what I'm aiming for can't talk? It's got to be close, or the audience won't feel the excitement that at any moment, I could throw a bad knife and Elmer could bite it right in front of them."

I had no idea when my Grandmother had become so comfortable with death, but I didn't think it boded well for Elmer's life expectancy.

"You could use balloons," I suggested.

"Balloons?" she repeated, trying out the idea.

"That's right, and then if you get close, they'll move and you can see it, but if you get too close, they'll pop." I hoped she'd buy this, because I didn't like the idea of leaving town before Grandma Mazur was arrested for assault with a deadly weapon.

I knew I had her when she smiled and said, "Elmer can tie them into shapes, so maybe he can make me one that looks like him. It would need to have long arms and skinny legs, and maybe he could just put a little air in one to put between the legs, but not blow it up all the way. That would be more life like to practice with."

I glanced at my mother, who was pouring herself a glass of wine, but it wasn't in her stemmed wineglass. It was going directly into her empty water glass, and she was filling it up to the top. I guess she was already aware of the knife throwing idea and wasn't too pleased with it.

"Speaking of adventures," Grandma interjected again, worrying me about what other scheme she was thinking about sending my mother to an early grave over. "I heard you were in Macy's today, buying a suitcase. Where are you going?"

Damn, I'd been so close to getting through the whole meal. My face turned red immediately, which took away my ability to lie and say it wasn't me. So I set my fork down and took a page from my mother's book by picking up my wine glass and gulping some down before replying, "I have to go out of town for a while for work."

"How long will you be gone?" my mother asked, looking dangerously close to panic.

I'd like to think it was concern for her daughter being out in the world, but I knew it probably more that if Grandma really did start throwing things at Elmer, she wanted me to be the one to make her stop. Or at the very least, be the person that took her into the station if she got too close with one and Elmer pressed charges.

"The assignment will take somewhere between two weeks and two months. It just depends on how quickly people learn what I'm to teach them," I said, hoping everyone would focus on me teaching, and not the lack of a definite timeline.

My mother gulped. "Two weeks?"

Joe, on the other hand, turned to see me better and asked, "Two months? What in the hell does Manoso need you to do out of town for two months?"

"I'll be going to the RangeMan offices in Boston and Miami to train the staff in searches and distractions. If it goes well, it might just be a week in each place, but I have to stay gone until the work is done, so it's possible it could take up to a month in each location," I told them, holding back the details about Rodriguez.

"And I suppose Manoso is going with you, to oversee your work?" Joe asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I could have cut the tension by clarifying that he wasn't going at all, but instead, I got defensive and replied, "He does own the company. I suppose he could go anywhere he wants."

Both of our responses were why we needed to break off whatever we had going on between us before it turned too ugly to ever salvage a friendship.

Joe wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on the table, "Cupcake, you realize this is just a flimsy excuse to get you away from your friends and family so he can bend your will to what he wants."

Grandma Mazur interrupted and said, "That stud could bend anything on me he wanted to. With a package like his, I'll bet by the time you come back, you'll be walking different."

"No," I said quickly, jumping in before she planted images in everyone's head that didn't need to be there. "As far as I know, Ranger won't be in either office while I am."

"So you're going alone?" Joe asked, noticeably calmer.

I grimaced. "No, I'll have a partner."

"Who?" Joe asked, while that little vein in his neck began to strain to the surface.

"Rodriguez," I answered, concerned that I didn't even know the guy's first name.

I could see Joe's cop face slam down as he started going through his mental rolodex of all Ranger's staff. After coming up blank, he asked, "Who's Rodriguez?"

"He's a bit of a computer geek," I threw out as a description from what Ranger had said. "He is the head of all the computer searches we do."

"Then why isn't he doing this training?" Joe asked, still suspicious, although the vein was going back to where it had started.

"I don't think he has many people skills. I mean, he's apparently brilliant, but not as good with people as I am." That much was honest, at least.

Now it was Joe's turn to reach for his wine glass and take several long gulps.

My mother took this chance to ask, "Who wants dessert? I made a pineapple upside down cake."

She didn't wait for any answers, but stood up and went straight into the kitchen to begin serving.

"Cupcake," Joe said in a low voice, "we need to talk." He didn't sound angry or irritated. If anything, I'd say he was resigned.

I nodded and went into the kitchen behind my mother. "Mom, can I get a piece for me and Joe to go?"

"Of course," she said, going to the pantry and pulling out an old Cool Whip container to use as a to-go box. My mom had been reusing containers like that for years, making her a true recycler.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you more notice about my trip. I just found out about it yesterday," I assured her.

She made a gesture that said she wasn't upset about the lack of advance warning. With her back to me, she said, "This sounds like an opportunity for you."

I shrugged, trying to see what she meant. "I think it's a real compliment that Ranger trusts me to train his staff."

"And it wouldn't require you to blow anything up or get kidnapped?" she asked, showing her fear for my safety as a bond enforcement agent.

"No, I'd be in an office for most of it. The biggest concern there is a paper cut or maybe carpel tunnel syndrome," I joked.

My mother turned around with half a smile on her face. "I'll have your father bring over some things for you tomorrow. If you're going to be traveling for your job, you need to be sure to pack everything you need."

"Thanks, Mom," I replied, knowing we were getting awfully close to being emotional, and since neither of us did emotions, I needed a distraction. "If Grandma decides to switch to knife throwing, maybe I can have one of the guys from RangeMan come over and teach her how to do it the right way."

Then, my mother shocked me by grinning. At first, I worried that her tumbler of wine was kicking in, until she said, "I don't know where she comes up with this stuff. There's a piece of me that thinks it is wonderful that at her age, she's still finding a way to have fun. And then there is a piece of me that wishes just for once, she'd take up a hobby like knitting."

I laughed at my mother's honesty and replied, "Of course, knitting would give her two sharp pointed objects she could get into trouble with."

Mom crossed herself and pushed the dish of cake in my direction. "What about Joe?" she asked with a knowing gleam in her eye.

I shook my head, wishing the answer to that was easy. "I don't think Joe and I are meant to be. I'm hoping this trip will give us an excuse to break up and stay that way, so that when I return, we can just be friends."

I expected a long list of reasons why Joe was my last chance at happiness, but instead, she said, "You aren't a lesbian, are you?"

"What?" I practically shrieked in response.

"Mary Klowinski's daughter just announced that she is getting a divorce because she is only interested in women. After listening to the women in the neighborhood talk about that, I realized blowing up cars is nothing compared to what her mother is going through. So, you and Joe are breaking up just because you don't love him, not because you'd rather go out with his sister, right?" Mom asked. There was a slight sparkle in her eye, and it was hard to tell if she was serious or not.

"I'm definitely interested in men, but Joe and I won't work, and I'm tired of pretending that it will, even though I know we can never be more than friends," I said, leveling with her.

"In that case, enjoy your cake. I'll have your dad bring over a package tomorrow for you to carry like you used to take to camp," she said with a smile.

It struck me that when she was relaxed and in her kitchen like this, my mother was a lovely woman. I thought back over my summer camp care packages and smiled. She'd pack some homemade goodies, a few practical things, and then something that never failed to make me smile. It was in this moment that I remembered why I put myself through the stress of these family dinners. There was no denying they were nuts, but my family did love me.

"You seem to be taking this really well. After pushing Joe on me for years, it's hard to believe you're okay with us breaking up for good," I confessed.

"I pushed him at you when you didn't seem to know what you were doing. You've been floating for a while now. I couldn't tell if you really liked your job anymore. You seemed to be sleeping with Joseph, but there was a part of you that was with that Ranger fellow, too. You've been lost, and until you were ready to find your own way, I was just trying to show you a good option. But tonight, you seem to know where you're going, so you don't need my suggestions," she explained kindly.

There was nothing like finding out your mother had been the one person who might have known you best during a time when you didn't think you knew yourself at all.

We said goodbye at the door and walked out with the Cool Whip container and two plastic forks. I don't know why she included the forks, since Joe and I both had utensils in our kitchen.

"Do you want to walk?" Joe asked as we neared our cars.

"Sure," I agreed, and then pointed in the direction of our old elementary school. "How about we go to the park and sit on the swings?"

Suddenly, those plastic forks were just further evidence of my mother's skills in being prepared.

We settled ourselves on the swings and passed the bowl back and forth, working through the cake in comfortable silence. When it was all gone, he put his fork in and handed it back to me. "We're done, aren't we?" Joe broke the silence by asking about something other than dessert.

"Not as friends," I threw out with hope.

"I guess I already knew that, but we've been together so long, it was hard to admit it. I mean, everyone expects us to be together, so we are," he said, voicing the only reason left for us to keep enduring the fights.

"I'm tired of living for other people's expectations. I love hanging out with you and eating Pino's together. I love the fact that you know me and understand my need for sugar, junk food, and a good game. But the fact that we keep butting heads over everything is beginning to take away the good things," I laid it out, hoping he would understand.

"So, this is it?" he asked, looking away.

"I think it should be. I'll be out of town, and you can move on while I'm gone," I explained.

"You didn't ask for this job just to have a reason to leave me, did you?" he asked, sounding strangely unsure of himself.

"No, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind after the job was described that this could be a good thing for us," I told him honestly.

"I'm okay with this," he spoke after a few moments of quiet. "I thought we'd end with a huge argument one day, but ending like this is better."

All right, I was absolutely no good at this emotional stuff – first with my mother, and now with Joe. I needed to get out of this conversation, and quick.

He must have felt the same thing, because he added, "Any chance when you come back, we can be friends with benefits?"

He was laughing when he said it, so I figured it was a joke, but I felt the need to clarify. "I think looking back on the last few months, that's all we've been. And I want more than that."

He stopped laughing and twisted in his swing to really look at me. Then he moved to touch my face. "You deserve more than that."

We stood up and walked back slowly. Even though we both knew it was the right thing to do, it was still hard to say goodbye, knowing the next time we saw each other, something huge would have changed between us and there would be no going back to this.

"Can I confess something?" Joe asked as we reached my parents' house once more.

I nodded for him to keep talking.

"I think part of why I'm okay with this is because we decided this was the right thing, and not because Manoso somehow won you over. The fact that he isn't going on this trip with you and he's sending a computer geek is making this whole thing so much easier to handle."

I laughed at his honestly and admired him for coming clean about why he was being such a grown up about the whole thing. "Thanks, Joe," I offered as a lame response.

He pulled me to him and hugged me tight enough that I knew this was a real goodbye. This was letting go of what we had when things were good, and what we could have had if we weren't so much alike and so stubborn when we wanted something. This was absolutely the right thing to do, but it still stung, because letting go of the comfortable and familiar to run off into the unknown might be exciting, but it was also scary as hell.

When he pulled back a little, I surprised myself by stretching up and kissing him. It was soft and warm as we took our time, but when we pulled apart, we both knew it was over for good.

No more words were spoken as he walked away and drove off in his jeep. I glanced at the bowl in my hand and considered running away to my apartment to cry alone, but for some reason, the pull of my mother's kitchen was strong, so I walked back up the sidewalk to their porch and smiled when the door opened and my mother stood there with her arms open.

After pushing me for years to marry Joe and get on with my life, she seemed to be taking this break up exceedingly well.

When we pulled apart, I lifted the bowl and gave it to her. "I wanted to bring this back."

Mom patted my check to say she was going to let me get away with that being the reason I came back to see her. "You'll be fine," she assured me. "You are going to see some new places and meet some new people, and you'll come back, ready to take on the world."

"I will?" I wondered where her sudden confidence in my abilities had come from.

She gave me a smile and said, "You're my daughter. Of course you will."

With that, she spun me around and shoved me out the door. "Now go get ready and remember to keep your cell phone with you while you're gone. I may need you to talk to Mother. For some reason, she listens to you, so don't think just because you are far away, I'll let you off the hook in trying to talk some sense into her."

I let her push me away and went to my car with a smile on my face, feeling lighter than I had in years. I'd said goodbye to something that I'd had with me for a long time, and it had been hard; a part of me needed to mourn the death of that relationship, even though it had been the right thing to do.

On the other hand, there was a freedom inside of me that I couldn't remember feeling since I was a teenager. I wasn't going to jump off any roofs – that lesson had been hard learned already – but there was still a big piece of me that was convinced I was finally ready to fly.


	4. The Friendly Skies

_JE deserves the credit for the Plum Universe below._

_Jen (JenRar) gets the credit for any clarity of thought or well written portions as she is the beta._

**Chapter 4 – The Friendly Skies**

I was rushing around, trying to assure myself I hadn't forgotten anything, when I heard the front door of my apartment swing open. I peeked around the corner, assuming it was Ranger, but needing to be sure I hadn't somehow managed to pick up a crazy just as I was about the leave town.

"You ready?" he asked as soon as I snuck a glance around the corner.

I shouldn't be surprised that I'd been spotted; after all, I was going to train people about creating distractions, not about stealth surveillance techniques. Plus, this was Batman, and I couldn't imagine anyone sneaking up on him.

I stepped out fully, figuring there was no point in trying to be covert anymore. "I think so."

He glanced at the two suitcases on the floor and raised an eyebrow. I knew there was a question in there somewhere, but didn't know if it was that I packed too much or too little.

"What?" I finally spat out, tired of waiting on him to clarify his expression.

My impatience only made him smile all the more. "I have a guy on standby at the airstrip in Boston to help you with your bags, because I assumed there would be more than what you could carry alone."

"Oh good," I jumped in. "Because in addition to those two, I have a care package from my mom."

He smiled. "Are you going to summer camp?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, proving I was definitely in the right maturity level for summer camp. I didn't even have time to focus on the fact he was moving until I felt the cool wall hit my back and his hard warm body press into my front.

"Didn't I warn you about sticking your tongue out at me?" he asked with his lips hovering less than an inch from mine.

All I needed to do was lift my chin and our mouths would touch. Instead, I froze, with the minimal distance between us causing all kinds of sparks to fly in that small space.

Ranger found his voice before I did to say, "We need to roll so you don't miss your flight."

"I thought it was a private plane that you owned," I pointed out, not really wanting to end this moment.

Neither of us moved, making the tension rise to a nearly unbearable level. Finally, Ranger lifted his head and placed his lips on my forehead. He lingered there with his hands tightly gripping my hair. Having just experienced a goodbye with Joe on Saturday, I recognized the shift in the way he was handling me.

He didn't look at me or release my hair so that I could see him as he spoke. "If you need anything while you're gone, you call me. I'll have the office provide whatever you need, but if you want a familiar face, just say the word, and I'll bring you home, or I'll meet you there."

I felt like there was more he wanted to say, but his ever present control prevented it from being spoken. After another moment of closeness, he released his grip on my hair and stepped back. His expression was neutral, and I knew he'd said more than what I'd heard from his mouth. The trouble was I didn't really understand what the rest of the message was.

Ranger picked up the two suitcases easily, leaving me to grab my box from my mother, my purse, the satchel with my laptop and new search requests from Rodriguez, and the envelope with a letter for the guys back at RangeMan. I'd stopped by yesterday with Rex and spoken to a good number of them, but for the ones that I missed because it had been a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, I wanted to thank them for adopting my little guy as the company mascot for a while and for taking care of him while I was away.

I shut the door and locked it, pausing to look at it for a second to say goodbye.

"I'll have the guys swing by to check on it while you're gone," Ranger assured me, as if knowing that despite it being what most people would consider practically a deathtrap with easy access for the criminal elements of Trenton, it was still my home, and I wanted it to be waiting on me when I got back.

The ride to the airstrip was typically silent, with Ranger in his zone and me beginning to mentally worry about meeting Rodriguez. If he were just shy, I could work with that, but if he was rude or disagreeable, I wasn't as excited about being in close proximity for extended periods.

We stopped much sooner than I'd hoped, near a cute airplane that was shiny and black.

Ranger was shaking his head and grinning. "You didn't just call my new jet 'cute' did you, Babe?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well…" I began losing any idea of how one defended that word choice to a man that took masculinity to a whole new unchartable level. "It is." I finally gave up and stood by my original opinion.

"Come on," he said, motioning before opening his door. "Let me introduce you to your new partner."

We got my stuff out of the truck and made our way to the plane, where there was a vaguely familiar looking man standing beside the drop down steps to board.

"Do you remember Erik?" Ranger asked, pointing to the well built man with a crew cut in front of us.

"You look familiar," I said, holding out my hand for him to shake.

He smiled, before explaining the déjà vu. "I was going to help you learn to play blackjack in Las Vegas, but you and your friends thought I was one of the bad guys, instead."

My face instantly went red. Now I remembered him approaching us in the casino and completely overreacting. "Don't worry. Once I meet someone, I tend to remember which side they're on. I promise not to hurt you a second time."

He laughed easily and replied, "Hal assured me you are a one and done kind of gal, so I'm holding you to it."

"Erik's going to be your pilot today. He'll drop you off and officially introduce you to Angel, who runs the Boston office. Then he'll be back once you two are ready to go to Miami," Ranger explained.

I was glad to know there was someone who was going to take care of getting us where we needed to be. I had traveled some, but I always stressed a little until I got from Point A to Point B in a strange city.

"Are we waiting on Rodriguez?" I asked, not seeing anyone else.

"No," a voice came from behind me.

I turned and saw a man I recognized standing at the top of the steps on the plane, looking at his watch with a face that said the two minutes or so he'd been forced to wait had been a huge inconvenience. This wasn't exactly how I'd hoped to begin. I realized he'd been the one to come into Bobby's office as I was finishing up and getting my Tootsie Roll Pop. If that was all he knew about me, I'd already started off on the wrong foot.

Ranger's blank face slammed down, and he picked up my bags once more to lead the way to the plane. The man stepped back, allowing us to board easily. Ranger stowed my suitcases in a little locked closet, and I put my laptop bag and purse in an empty seat beside the one I hoped to sit in. Ranger offered to take my care package, but I refused. I was going to wait to open it until we got to Boston, but something told me if I my mom packed me something to make me smile, I might just need it on the flight, so I kept it with me.

"Steph, this is Rodriguez. You two will be working together in Boston to train the staff there in better research techniques, and then you will work with their takedown team and new distraction hire to learn how to run a successful distraction for a skip capture. Do you have any questions before you leave?"

Rodriguez looked at me, and then back to Ranger. I guess that meant he was good to go.

"No, I think that sums it up," I said, feeling the need to break the silence.

Ranger pulled me to him and hugged me tightly in a rare show of affection. This kind of contact was no big deal when we were alone, but in front of the guys, he rarely held me to him. He moved us slightly so that he was facing where I thought Rodriguez was standing, but no words were spoken. Maybe he was passing along a message with the standard RangeMan ESP that everyone had but me.

Ranger let me go and lifted my chin to look at him. "Anything, anytime," he said, reminding me to call him.

"Got it," I assured him, trying to act braver than I felt about him getting off the plane and leaving me with the silent man standing across from me.

Ranger left without another word.

Erik came back with a goofy smile and told us to buckle up, promising it would take less than an hour and he didn't expect any trouble along the way. "I'll be busy up front, so you're on your own for drinks or snacks, but I'll let you know when we're cruising and you can get up and walk around to self serve."

I smiled at him as a thank you for attempting humor and wished Erik could stay to keep any awkwardness from descending when it was just the two of us.

With that, Erik closed a little curtain separating the cabin from the cockpit and left us alone. I sat down and clicked my belt into place, before picking up my box from home and holding it in my lap. I figured maybe a distraction of some sort would be helpful, since I hated flying, and obviously Rodriguez wasn't in the mood for helping to take my mind off of it.

Mom had taped up the package pretty well, so tearing it open with my hands wasn't going to work.

As the plane began to pick up speed down the runway, I opened my purse and found my keys, hoping I could use one of them to get the tape open. I ran a key down the side seam, but nothing happened. I tried a second time, pressing in harder, but that only made it jump to the side and hit the hand trying to hold the box still as the plane became airborne.

I tried not to make a big deal out of it, but the keys grating my skin hurt. Even though it wasn't bleeding, there was an angry red line over my knuckles. Seeing that might have caused me to make a noise of frustration, but when the box suddenly disappeared from my lap, I screeched from the shock of it. I quickly covered my mouth to make myself hush, and then I looked up to see Rodriguez with a black switchblade in his hand. He easily flipped the blade out, and then ran it across each side and down the middle, as though the tape were warm butter being split by a table knife.

He pushed the blade back in against his leg, and the knife disappeared into a pocket of his cargo pants, before he handed the box to me.

"Thank you," I said, hoping this might break the ice between us.

He nodded solemnly as a response, but his face didn't change at all.

Once he returned to his seat, I opened the box and tried to ignore the fact that he obviously had no interest at all in being here with me.

The flaps lifted easily, and I instantly saw two round tins inside. One was definitely larger than the other and had my name on it. The other one had a little tag that simply said _Your Partner _in my mother's beautiful script.

I knew there was food inside, so I cracked open mine and saw she'd made a large batch of small chocolate chip cookies. The smell was wonderful, and because of their tiny size, I could easily pop them into my mouth in one bite. They melted in on my tongue, still perfectly fresh. When I was a little girl, my mother would make cookies in this size to pack in my lunch for school. I asked why they were so little, because I knew it took her longer to make them that way instead of as a bigger size. She said it was so that I would know each cookie was a kiss from my mother, reminding me that she loved me.

It had been years since I'd seen her quarter sized cookies, but knowing what she'd once said they meant made me smile. I was tempted to rip the label off the second tin and keep them all for myself, but I realized this might be a way to thaw the ice a little. I set the box down on the floor at my feet and unfastened my seat belt so that I could turn in the chair and put my feet in the aisle, facing Rodriguez.

I held the tin with my mother's note in his direction and said, "My mother sent these for you."

He looked at me as though I was crazy, and then he glanced at the circular object in my outstretched hand. The silence made me nervous, so I started to ramble.

"She cooks all the time and loves feeding people, so when she packed up a little care package for my trip, she included a tin of her special cookies for me, and thought you might like some, too."

He kept his eyes on the tin and finally said, "I don't usually eat sweets."

Normally, I would respect that kind of determination to be healthy, but for some reason, it felt like an insult to my mother, which hooked something in me, preventing me from keeping my mouth closed. "And my mother doesn't usually cook for people she doesn't know. They're tiny. If you don't want them, give them to the guys in Boston, but there is no way I'm going to talk to my mother tonight and tell her that you refused to even taste one after she went through the trouble of thinking of you."

His eyebrows went up in stereo, making me wonder if he was unable to raise just one like me, or if I'd surprised him.

I wiggled the tin as a reminder that he needed to accept them, which snapped him out of whatever shock had grabbed him. He took the tin in one hand and set it in his lap, just staring at it.

I opened mine once more and pulled out a cookie. "See," I said, getting his attention once more as I popped it in my mouth. "They're tiny, so you pop them in your mouth whole and no one will see what you're eating."

He watched me for a minute, and then looked back down at his tin and said, "Thank you."

We rode in silence, until the curtain in front was pulled back and Erik advised us we were safe to move around.

"I'm going to explore," I announced to no one in particular, before getting up and walking to the back of the plane, where there were doors.

I found some more storage closets, two bathrooms that were both much larger than in any plane I'd ever seen before, a bedroom with a queen sized bed covered in pillows and fluffy blankets, and a room with two seats that had metal rings on the floor all around them. I noticed the floor back there was not carpeted as the rest of the plane was and wondered why that was.

I walked back up to where I had been sitting, and then moved to the front of the plane to visit with Erik in the cockpit. He gave me a very boiled down version of how he flew the plane and kept me company for a while before I figured I should get back to my seat and leave him to focus on keeping us up in the air.

I sat back down and realized as long as I'd been moving around, I hadn't minded flying, but now that I was sitting again with nothing to do, I was nervous again. I grabbed my box and started digging around to see what else was in there. I found a box of band aids, with a note from Mom that read, _For your paper cuts – Hopefully this is the worst thing your new adventure will hold for you._

There were some fun pens that had different designs on the outside and a book about a crazy bounty hunter and her misadventures trying to bring in a guy she'd once dated. I laughed out loud at the book summary, thinking how crazy that was in its similarities to my life.

She'd packed a box of Tasty Cakes, which she rarely ate, but obviously she understood that I loved them. At the bottom was a magic eight ball, with a sticky note advising me that if I got lost again, maybe this would help to answer my questions.

From the corner of my eye, I saw that Rodriguez was sitting with his head against the back of the seat with his eyes closed, but I could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn't asleep. I thought to myself, _Will the two of us ever get along and be able to talk?_ Shaking the black ball in my hands, I glanced down and saw the prediction, 'Ask again later.'

I guess the fates inside a children's toy couldn't read the closed off man across the aisle. I wondered what good Ranger really thought I could do. I couldn't melt him one on one with the offer of cookies. How on Earth could I get him to open up to me once we got to the Boston office and were surrounded by other people?

Erik pulled the curtain back to separate us as he began our descent. I threw everything back into my box and failed at getting it to fit so the flaps would close smoothly. I had to ignore that as a problem to solve once it felt like we were no longer hurling through the air at a breakneck speed.

I pulled out the magic eight ball, allowing the box to shut once more, and then held it to me and shut my eyes, trying to think about something other than the plane crashing.

Once it felt like we were no longer moving and the sound of the curtain being opened once more hit my ears, I opened my eyes and saw Rodriguez standing over me, staring down as though he had no idea what to make of the scared woman clutching a children's toy like it contained all the answers of the universe.

"It was in my box," I offered as an explanation. I quickly opened the care package once more and shoved it in, crushing some of the other items in order to force it to fit. The flaps still wouldn't close, and I was frustrated trying to make it bend to my will with an audience that I felt like was silently judging my every move.

I felt two hands pull the box away as Rodriguez took the care package, carefully moved a few items to repack it correctly, and then shut the top, tucking one flap in to keep it closed.

"Thank you," I replied as he handed it back without comment.

I doubt I could have made a worse first impression on my partner for the foreseeable future, but at least I knew some of the guys in Boston would be good for a little conversation, so I wouldn't have to dwell on it.

As I turned to grab my laptop bag and purse, I caught movement to my left and looked over at Rodriguez, who was carefully putting the lid back on the tin of cookies I'd given him and sliding it into his messenger bag. Well, what do you know? Mr. Silent Treatment had eaten a cookie and was obviously not in a hurry to give the tin back to me.

It wasn't a big sign of improvement, but I was desperate here, and any hope at all was enough for me to cling to.

Erik unlocked the door and pushed the stairs out for us. He unlocked the closet with our luggage and handed an over the shoulder duffle to Rodriguez and one of my suitcases to me. The second of my bags, he kept in his own hand as we made our way off the plane and to the two waiting SUVs.

"Gentlemen," Erik said with a big grin on his face. "Allow me to introduce Rodriguez, who I believe you all know, and the Bombshell Bounty Hunter, who I think you all came out here to meet."

All eyes were on me, so I tried to contain my cringe at hearing the nickname I disliked so much, and then corrected Erik with, "I'd really prefer to go by Stephanie or Steph."

That got me three new smiles in return. The largest of the three people standing in front took a few steps to close the distance between us and held out his hand. "Stephanie, I'm Vincent Angelino, but the guys just call me Angel."

I shook his hand, glad that he had a firm handshake without feeling like the bones in my hand were being crushed.

"We've all heard so much about you from the guys in Trenton that we can't wait to have you in our office and all to ourselves."

I realized this was probably rude to Rodriguez, so I turned and gestured his way. "We're both looking forward to working with your staff and helping out in any way we can."

I glanced at the remaining two men who had yet to speak. One I didn't recognize at all, but the other I knew from a distraction a few months back that he'd come up to observe. We'd met so briefly that it might have been tempting to forget him, except for the fact that he had a long scar running across his face from his right temple, around his eye, over his nose, and curving down his left cheek to his neck.

I raised a hand to wave at him and said, "Hey, Scar. I'm guessing after your trip down to Trenton that you'll be working with the distraction team when we're ready to go out in the field."

His whole face lit up with a smile when I spoke to him, and the other guys from the Boston office seemed completely shocked to see him with anything other than a blank face. It was too late for him to try stoic and silent with me. I'd seen him celebrating with us after the takedown, and after he got a couple of shots in him, he became a regular chatty Cathy.

The final man spoke up and said, "Well, I can't be left out here if everybody else knows you." He came closer, picked up my hand, and kissed the back of it. "I'm Needle, and it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I couldn't help myself and blurted out, "Please tell me Needle is a nickname that's going to be explained while I'm here? I mean, if I'm left to figure it out on my own, you may not come out in the most flattering light."

The guys burst out laughing and hit Needle's shoulder, prompting him to explain. "Before you start to think less of me, my last name is Needlemeyer, and I'm the medic in this office, so the guys shortened my name to just Needle."

"Yeah, you're right. That was much better than I was thinking. I mean, I've never been to Boston, so I don't know what guys are like here, but my mind went somewhere totally different with the possible explanation," I blurted out, probably making matters much worse.

Angel wrapped an arm around my shoulder and picked up the suitcase I'd set down. "I like her. I'm calling the boss to see if we can keep her permanently."

And just like that, I felt that even if Rodriguez chose to ignore me, I'd still be okay up here.

We got to the office building on Congress Street in Boston's south side, a place the guys referred to as Southie. Other than a few voices at the front desk that were thick with the New England accent, everyone here sounded and acted the same as they did in Trenton. Because the building itself looked like somebody moved the office from Haywood, it felt like we were still at home.

Scar and Angel took us to the fourth floor and showed us to our apartments, which were side by side. "You had two empty units?" I asked, wondering why they had so many open.

"No, but to thank you for coming up here to help us out, a couple of the guys decided to bunk up for the time you're here." Scar opened the door in front of me and handed me a key, before saying, "This is my place, but I'll be rooming with Needle while you're here."

I shook my head, still smiling about that name. "I feel really bad about kicking you out of your own home."

He laughed, giving me the strangest urge to run my hand over the scar on his face. When he was smiling, it didn't look nearly as intimidating. I was able to resist when he started talking again.

"Actually, every man here volunteered to let you have their place for a few weeks. I think we all like the idea of having a great woman sleeping in our bed, even if we aren't in it."

I was pretty sure my face was beginning to take on one of its trademark rose tints.

"But in the end, I won out to host you, because we'd already met, and the boss thought that since you knew me, you might be more comfortable here. Plus, my bathroom was converted to handicap accessible, with a handheld shower spray. I guess you must have an old injury or something like mine that the water massage helps, and Ranger thought you might appreciate that, since no one else on this floor has one."

Okay, if I was just mildly blushing before, now I was completely red and wishing the fates would just swallow me up. I set my box on the bar in the kitchen, trying to find anything at all to comment on to get the subject off why the boss would think I needed pulsating jets. When I talked to Ranger the next time, I was going to come up with some kind of threat for him for talking about my fondness of shower massagers. Of course, now that Joe and I had broken up, I might be glad for the relief.

I quickly unfolded the top of my box, pulled out the tin of cookies, and offered some to Scar.

He looked in, and then glanced up at me with an innocent expression on his face. "Are those homemade cookies?"

"My mom sent them along. I had nothing to do with them, so they're completely safe for human consumption," I assured him.

He reached in tentatively and pulled out one to pop in his mouth. The look on his face convinced me that I needed to beg my mother to get baking and send me up a fresh batch. I was pretty sure I could get the guys up here to do anything I wanted, as long as I paid them off in tiny cookies.

As Scar blissed out with his bite sized treat, I picked up my magic eight ball and gave it a shake, while asking it in my head, _Am I going to have a good time here?_

My eyes fell on the open bathroom door, just before I looked down to see the answer floating in the window: 'It is decidedly so.'


	5. Day One

_Thanks to JE for creating the Plum universe for me to play in._

_Jen (JenRar) thank you so much for your hard work as the beta on this story. Fixing mistakes and trying to make sense out of what I send you is a difficult task that you always complete with a smile._

**Chapter 5 - Day One**

Being in the Boston office was a bit like being a celebrity. It seemed that everyone had heard some story or another of my misadventures and wanted to ask if what they'd heard was true or not. I don't know how many times I had to recount Ranger's Boxter going to its great reward, but every time, it got the same response – hysterical laughter. I would have taken offense, but it seemed that the guys here were a lot more serious than in Trenton, and I felt the need to help liven the place up a bit.

But after enduring the all-staff meeting at ten o'clock and meeting with Angel to review general Boston procedures for searches, I was ready to do something productive. After lunch in the break room, he moved Rodriguez and me to a small conference room with a laptop and projector set up at the front and seating for a dozen of the guys to come in for a view of our techniques. Angel got us logged in and said he'd give us ten minutes to settle in, and then he'd send in the first group who would be with us for the afternoon.

Angel hoped they would listen as we explained how we performed a full search. Then, we would give them each a search request; once they had run their own search, they would bring it back to Rodriguez and me to review and make suggestions. If all went well, the guys would have the hang of it by the end of the day, and tomorrow, we could start the whole process over again with a different group in the morning and a third group in the afternoon. If it took only a half day per group, we could be finished in less than four full days, and then we could move on to the distraction part of our assignment.

I pulled out my laptop and verified the stack of searches that had been dropped off for me at my desk in Trenton were still in the satchel. Rodriguez was also pulling his own computer up, giving me the courage to try talking while we were both doing something, so we didn't have to look at each other. Maybe he was just socially awkward and talking a little with no pressure of eye contact might help him to relax.

"So... How would you like to approach the explanation of how we do what we do?" I asked, intentionally typing on my keyboard to let him know I was looking at my screen and not him.

"You do the talking. If I disagree with anything, I'll speak up," he gruffly replied, his own keys clicking in the background.

Despite not having enough time to get into much conversation, I blurted out, "You don't like me, do you? Is it that you don't think I'm competent?"

He stopped typing and looked at me as though I'd spoken in a foreign language. "I wouldn't have agreed to work with you if I thought you were incompetent."

"Then why don't you ever speak to me?" I pushed, knowing it was probably a mistake.

He shrugged and looked down before replying. "I don't talk to anybody. It has nothing to do with you. Actually, if Ranger had tried to force me to do this with any of the guys, I would have flat out refused. Your searches are the only ones I use in planning out takedown strategies."

_What!_ "I don't understand," I confessed dumbly. "You plan takedown strategies? I thought you just did computer work, like me."

A dry, cough-like sound came from him in reaction. It may have been a humorless laugh, but it was hard to tell. "I take your searches and attach a strategy memo of how I feel the information would best be utilized in apprehending the skip. I don't go into the field, but they successfully use my suggestions ninety-three percent of the time to apprehend the subject on the first try."

I smiled at his exact percentage. "What do they do the other seven percent of the time?"

He looked at me as though he were judging why I was asking, and then glanced back down to say, "They do it their own way first, and then they do it my way to get the skip on the second try."

Had he just made a joke? Before I could say anything, I heard the door open and saw some of the guys filing in.

"So then, it seems for this to be useful, I need to talk about how I run a search, and then you need to talk about how to use the information in an effective way. The data alone isn't enough if they aren't using it right."

He grimaced and nodded. "I was hoping you'd say enough in how to run them that the use would be obvious."

The room filled up quickly, and then I stood up at the front and warned them that I wasn't a real teacher. I was a normal, run of the mill RangeMan employee just like they were, but I had run more than my fair share of searches, so I'd been tapped to talk to them today about the process I used to get helpful information to apprehend skips.

From the back, a red headed guy that looked like a Viking of old, complete with a wild bushy beard and hair braided down his back, said, "That's a shame. I was looking forward to being hot for teacher."

I instantly blushed and looked down. In Trenton, the guys made jokes all the time, and it was all in good fun, but something about this one made me genuinely uncomfortable. I wanted to say something, but sometimes ignoring idiots was the best way to make them be quiet.

I glanced over at Rodriguez, although I don't know why, since he'd not shown much in the way of interpersonal communication skills. I was truly shocked to see him glaring at the guy who was aptly called Red by several of the team after his comment. Rodriguez looked at me and lifted his chin, as though telling me to move on and not worry about it. He moved his unappreciative glare back to the group in front of us, and they quieted down quickly.

For the next hour and a half, I walked through a basic search using one of the examples I'd brought from Trenton. The guys watched me and took a few notes. There were a few questions, but for the most part, they listened respectfully.

I handed out searches for them to practice on from a stack of unfilled requests Angel had given me. If nothing else, he was hoping this exercise would get the Boston office current on their paperwork.

The guys left, and I sat down hard in my chair, thinking about their questions. I had a feeling they didn't understand what I was trying to say about following a trail on paper. I was afraid some of them would continue to run the searches the way they always had, or they would overreact and follow every single name that popped up and completely bog themselves down in data.

"I don't know that this approach is going to do it," I said after thinking it through.

"Why not?" Rodriguez asked, still sitting in his chair to my left.

I shared my worries about the two responses I anticipated, and he shrugged, as though they were both possible.

"What can you change?" he asked, surprising me that he spoke any more than was necessary.

I thought about it, and honestly, I didn't know. The way I explained it was the way I did it, so trying to show them a new approach would mean doing it differently, and I doubted that would be effective. "I don't know," I summed up lamely.

He put his head back down and began typing away. I guess that meant the conversation was over.

I reluctantly went back to my own laptop and grabbed another search to work on while we were waiting. I wasn't even halfway through, when Red returned, looking like a triumphant school boy who'd finished his test first. I looked at what he handed me and knew he'd done a bare basics search and it wouldn't be sufficient. I glanced at Rodriguez and lifted my shoulders, trying to tell him it was exactly what I'd expected.

Rodriguez silently held his hand out, so I gave him the slim file. He breezed through it quickly, before asking, "So when and where would you try to pick up this guy based on your search?"

Red took the folder, which was another bad sign. If he'd just run the checks, he should still have enough information in his head to answer without having to look.

"I'd go to his house first, and if he wasn't there, I'd swing by the garage where he works," he replied, pleased with himself. "I'd try it now, and if that didn't get him, then I'd go closer to the evening to catch him at a different time."

Rodriguez gave me the file and said, "Neither of those places would get you your guy, and if you're doing drive-bys, hoping to catch him, you're wasting your time and warning the skip that you're coming after him, so he'll run."

I pulled up the information in my computer and expanded the search the way I thought I'd explained earlier. I flipped on the projector so Red could watch, as I pulled up a credit report and saw he had two charge cards with current activity. It looked like he did all his spending in the early afternoon, which made me guess that he worked third shift. Most midnighters come home and crash, and then when they wake up, they do their errands, including household spending, before stores close. In reviewing his charge card activity, I saw there were steady swipes of his card every Saturday night at the same place – a local joint called MuCully's Bar.

I pointed to the screen and said, "If I'd run this, I would have printed out this activity and highlighted the weekly activity at the same bar."

I went back into the search, saw he had a sister who was much younger than he was, and compared that to the purchases he'd made at Babies R Us. Since there was no wife or child in the picture in his history, I did a fast check on his sister and saw she had a twelve month old son. I ran her address and pointed out that she lived with their parents. He seemed to go by the toy store every Wednesday afternoon, so my guess was he visited his nephew every Wednesday afternoon or evening and took him a little gift.

The last thing I did was pull his cell phone history and saw a repeated 800 number dialed almost once a week. I used a search engine online and found out the toll-free number belonged to a sex toy distributor named Leather and Lace. I called the number and pretended the skip was my boyfriend. I said I wanted to give him something special for our anniversary, but I wasn't sure what he'd bought in the past. It took a little talking, but she finally started giving me product numbers. After I got off the phone, I looked them up and saw our skip was seriously into bondage. It appeared he was either gay, or he was the one who liked to submit, because the harnesses, collars, and belts were all too large for a woman. I typed up a summary of my findings there and looked up at Red for the first time.

He didn't seem to know what to think. I guess he didn't like the idea of being shown up by a girl, because he turned to Rodriguez and said, "So where and when would you pick him up?"

It took a few minutes of Rodriguez looking through the fresh printouts I'd made, before he said, "I'd need to know something about McCully's. What kind of bar is it?"

Red thought briefly and said, "A lot of construction workers, shift workers – blue collar, mostly. There is a dance floor, and on the weekends, they have a DJ playing metal, rock, and a little punk. I'd say it has more of the thirty plus age group."

Rodriguez nodded and said, "I'd suggest a distraction with a woman in mostly leather, with a riding crop somehow attached to her outfit. If he didn't bite on that, I'd suggest the sister's house, since he's more likely to go quietly to avoid embarrassment in front of someone that's important to him." With that good advice, he handed Red the folder and went back to looking at his laptop screen.

That was the process for the next two hours. The guys came in one by one, and Rodriguez asked for their plan, which was usually a home and work pick up until they got him. Then, I'd take it and go through the back channels, before Rodriguez would take my information and pull together a solid plan.

It took nearly three hours before we started getting the opposite end of the spectrum, where people brought in searches so overwhelmingly performed that they didn't know where to start in using the information. They got the process of being thorough, but they didn't seem to have any internal instincts about what was worth following up on, and what was just trivial details.

I tried to help them highlight the important stuff and gave it my best shot at explaining why my gut deemed certain members of their family to be unimportant, while others needed to be looked into further. These took longer to work through, because they'd already run everything, but reading through it to weed out the good info from the bad was a slow process.

Rodriguez's approach of using the search to answer the questions of when and where you could pick up the skip with the smallest chance of there being any trouble during the apprehension was what helped it to finally make sense to the guys.

Eventually, we got through them all, just as Angel came in to check on us. "How was day one?" he asked with great enthusiasm.

I let out a long breath, feeling exhausted and wondering if I was really the right person to do this job.

Rodriguez shocked me by speaking up and saying, "We think the one on one sessions were more beneficial, so we're hoping to incorporate the things that were most helpful individually when we talk to the group tomorrow."

Angel seemed to appreciate that, and then looked over to me and said, "The guys are going to Whiskey Priest for some drinks to unwind, and they were hoping you'd join them."

I looked over at Rodriguez and asked, "What do you think? Feel up to some after work drinks with the guys?"

He morphed back into silent man and shook his head no. I thought about it for a second, and then declined the invitation myself, as well. "It's been a long day for me, and I think I should spend the night catching up on some sleep, instead of proving how low my tolerance is for alcohol. Maybe tomorrow we could go out instead."

That seemed to appease him, and he instructed us to leave the equipment where it was for the morning session tomorrow, before heading out.

We packed up our individual laptops and papers, finishing at the same time and walking to the door together.

Just before he opened the door, Rodriguez said, "Are you going to check in back home?"

"Yeah, I need to call my mom, and I owe Ranger a call, too," I told him, wondering why it mattered.

He opened the door and said, "Tell her thank you, the cookies were delicious."

My mouth fell open slightly, and I couldn't get my brain to work fast enough to come up with a suitable response before he walked out, seemingly vanishing into thin air when he turned the corner.

Was that progress, or was I reading more into it than I should? It definitely seemed like he'd thawed while we were working with the guys. He would often refer to how I would follow a pattern to get better info on the skip in ways that made me feel like he appreciated my approach. While he never offered an outright compliment, I still felt like he totally got the way my mind worked.

I also liked how he would look through the reports I would mock up and follow my highlights and handwritten notes, instead of reading all the data in the folder first. It was as if he trusted my opinion, so if I pointed something out, he knew it was the important stuff. I guess Ranger was right... We did get along professionally.

How I was supposed to build on that in order to form any kind of connection to help him open up, I wasn't sure, but at least I felt like we'd found a good starting ground to built up from.

I lugged my stuff down to my apartment and tossed it on the sofa. After pulling out my cell phone, I called my parents' house, relieved to hear silence in the background when my mother answered.

"Has the plate spinning been given up, or is she just that good at it now?" I asked Mom cheekily.

"She's in the back yard, popping these inflated creations that have been tied into naughty shapes. I hate the noise, but at least it gets rid of the evidence of what they're making out of the rubber," Mom explained at a half whisper.

"And by rubber, you mean balloons," I clarified, relieved that Grandma had taken me up on my suggestion to use balloons, instead of poor Elmer, for practice.

"No, I mean rubber, as in condoms. He has some strange brand that isn't very big. He only partially blows them up, and then bends them into shapes." Mom took a deep breath, and I thought I could hear her swallow something liquid, as well. "Mrs. Campanili next door came outside and asked what they were doing, and Mother told her truth about the special order condoms that were made for men with smaller…you know."

Apparently, my mother's sense of propriety didn't allow for her to say the word penis, even today. When she'd given me the talk about sex when I was thirteen, she'd used every possible suggestion of the male body having an appendage between his legs that was necessary for making babies, but she'd never given it a name or a description.

We talked for a while, and I thanked her for my care package and for including a tin of treats for Rodriguez, too.

When she asked how we were working together, I told her the truth. "The work itself is going well. We think in similar ways, so it's easy to know what he needs when he asks for something. But he is a quiet guy and doesn't talk much, so I can't tell if he's enjoying working with me, or if he's just enduring it because neither of us really had a choice."

"You know there are people who think your father is quiet," Mom replied as though that were somehow significant.

"Mom, in the thirty years I've know him, he's never said more than four sentences strung together at the time. He is absolutely quiet," I countered.

"To you, he is, but I understand him, so I can tell he is often saying things, even if he isn't speaking aloud," she offered.

"Isn't that impossible? If he isn't speaking aloud by definition, he isn't saying anything," I pointed out.

"Stephanie, don't get fresh with your mother," she corrected me, as though I were ten and trying to talk back to her. "What I mean is, I learned to read his expressions and how he was sitting to figure out what he was thinking. Then, over time, he began to loosen up, and now, he talks to me all the time."

"Really?" I asked, not entirely sure I could picture that.

"Well, maybe not all the time – he still won't talk if Mother is around – but when she goes to the Clip 'N Curl, your father makes it a point to be home so we can spend time together, and then he talks."

I interrupted her before she could tell me anything else about the time they spent together when Grandma Mazur wasn't around.

After we hung up, I sat on the couch and smiled. Getting along with my mother was easier long distance. I decided against calling Ranger and booted up my laptop to send him an e-mail instead, reporting on how the day had gone.

When I opened my mail program, I was shocked to see one from both Rodriguez and Ranger waiting.

I opened Ranger's first, figuring it would be short. Exactly as expected, he'd written: _Babe, __proud__ of what you did today. Keep up the good work. ~R_

I didn't know who had talked to him, but I appreciated the vote of confidence. I sent him a more apt description of what I thought had gone wrong today and how I hoped we could work on it tomorrow, and then thanked him for his support.

I opened Rodriguez's next, wondering if he would have more or less to say than Ranger. I'd finally met someone who could give our boss a run for his money in the silent man title contest.

_Stephanie, you did well today. This is a new way of investigating that is hard for the guys to get into. They are used to their sheer size and abilities getting the results for __them, and__ asking them to sit at their desk for an extended period is hard. __Tomorrow, after__ you present how to follow a trail, I'll take them through how I analyze the information you dig up in order to come up with a capture plan. Maybe if they have the whole __picture, they'll__ get it a little faster. See you at the morning briefing at eight. ~M_

Amazing, he'd used a lot more words in his e-mail than I'd heard him string together all day. I read through it three times, and it seemed like he was trying to encourage me. But the detail that stuck out the most was the fact that he'd signed it with just the letter M. I knew it was Rodriguez, because his screen name from RangeMan was in the "From" section at the top.

I tried not to over think my response, and quickly typed, _Thanks. I'm__ sure hearing from you will be helpful to the guys. You know that by typing a single initial that doesn't appear in the name __Rodriguez, you__ now have to tell me what it stands for, right? Have a good __night. Steph._

I thought about it for a few seconds, and then added a post script of, _Do we really have to attend the briefing meeting? Eight o'clock should only come once a day, and that shouldn't be until after dinner._

With that, I hit send and began getting ready for bed. It might be early by my usual standards, but it felt like days ago that Ranger had picked me up from my apartment and brought me to the airport.

I checked the lock on the door to the apartment, and then picked up the magic eight ball on the way to the bedroom. Shaking it hard, I asked, "Is tomorrow going to be better than today?"

I had to like my odds when it came back _Outlook Good_. It may not be the _It is Certain _I'd been hoping for, but it was at least a step in the right direction.

Clearly, working all the aspects of this assignment was only going to work if done one step in the right direction at a time.


	6. The Barking Crab

_The Plum Universe below is not my creation, but respectfully borrowed from JE._

_Jen (JenRar) thank you for sharing your time and knowledge with me as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 6 – The Barking Crab**

Day two with the Boston staff was a lot better than I thought it would be. Our morning session began with me going through my process of how I perform a search. I talked my way through a sample file from Angel's stack. The guys asked a lot of questions, primarily centered around the things I didn't dig further into, rather than what I searched harder for.

When I was finished, I handed the file to Rodriguez, who cleared his throat twice before finally speaking. "So based on what Stephanie just dug up, when and where would you propose picking up the skip?"

We got the anticipated answer of at his house or at his job with the timing all over the place. Rodriguez then jumped into the things I'd highlighted and came up with a plan to pick him up at the race track he liked to gamble at on the weekends. He reminded everyone that the focus wasn't just to get the skip, but to keep as many people safe as possible in the process, while taking them in a way that left them no opportunity to run.

When the guys left with their own files, I felt like our chances were a little better at getting the right results. "That went much better, don't you think?" I asked, hoping he'd be more talkative.

I got a shrug as a response, so I tried again. "I spoke to my mom last night and told her that you appreciated your cookies."

He nodded, but still didn't look me in the eye.

"If you play your cards right, I might be willing to refill your tin when she sends more later in the week," I teased, hoping for some kind of reaction.

Nothing…just a whole bunch of silent nothing came from the man in the corner. If he thought ignoring me was going to make me go away, he obviously didn't have much experience with women from Jersey.

"Were you comfortable in your apartment?"

"It was a bed," he offered, as though that were an answer.

"But could you sleep in it?" I pushed a little more.

He tilted his head to the side, and I guessed that meant he hadn't slept well.

I continued, "Hopefully things will go smoother today, so that when we finish the afternoon session, you can head back down and get some sleep."

His head jerked up with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. "I don't need you to take care of me."

Touchy much? "Obviously," I replied. "But we're working together for the next couple of weeks, and I'd like to think if I were exhausted, you would have suggested the same thing. It's not that I need you to take care of me, but it would be nice to know you were concerned."

"I don't need your concern, either," he spat out.

This time, _my_ eyes narrowed, and I felt my own temper rising up. I know Bobby told me I needed to be careful around him, but at the moment, I didn't care. "Well, what you need and what you've got are two entirely different things now, aren't they? You may not need it – hell, you obviously don't want it – but that doesn't mean you can force me to not give it to you anyway. Deal with it!"

His eyes got slightly larger. It had probably been a long time since anyone had stood up to him like this.

"There is a whole building full of guys you can flirt with. I'm not so tender that I need your attention. Just pick some of the school boys out there fighting for time alone with you and have fun. You are wasting your time with me," he informed me rudely.

"Good thing it's my time to do with as I see fit," I reminded him. "And as for the guys, where do you get off telling me to flirt with them?"

"I'm just going off of how you act in Trenton," he bit back with a deep breath at the end, as though trying to calm himself down.

"Trenton? What in the hell did I do wrong in Trenton?" I wondered.

He smirked before responding, "The innocent act doesn't suit you."

My jaw literally fell open, giving him the chance to list my faults.

"In one day, I saw you teasing Bobby with a lollipop, you had your hand down Lester's pants as he paraded you through the office like some sort of sex doll, Manny was hovering, calling you his wife and kissing your head. Hell, I was only on the floor for fifteen minutes, and I got an eye full of how you related to your coworkers. But it obviously works for you, so I was just suggesting you do it here and quit wasting your time on me, because I'm not going to give you a nickname, I'm not going to carry anywhere, and I can assure you, I'll never call you my wife and kiss you when you hurt yourself because of your own stupidity," he explained with a voice so even, it was frightening.

"Computer geek...right," I replied, half for my own clarification and partially to try and get a dig in that cut him as hard as his words did me. "The guys said you were quiet and withdrawn, but what they failed to mention is that you are a monumental ass!"

Just as I said that, the door swung open and one of the guys returned with a completed search. I looked it over and showed him a few things he'd missed running down, and then Rodriguez helped him through a takedown strategy. After he left, I looked at Rodriguez, who seemed to be memorizing whatever was on the screen of his laptop.

"Thanks for at least treating me respectfully while we had an audience," I said, feeling the need to apologize for calling him a name.

He shrugged. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wouldn't have done this with anyone else. You've got skills. My point earlier was that with your skills, you could do so much. But you seem to hide behind your looks and personality, instead of standing on your mental abilities. And as much as I'd like to fault you for it, you always seem to get the job done, so I was suggesting you go out and do whatever it is that you do to pull the team together around you out there. Boston has never worked as a cohesive unit like they do in Trenton. The boss seems to think it's because no matter what the guys differ on, they always unite around you. It might help them here, too."

"Don't I feel like a first class bitch," I mumbled.

I would have continued to talk, but I thought for sure I heard a laugh coming from Rodriguez's corner.

Before I could say anything else, the door opened, and we had to run through our search and strategy routine once more. The flow of guys was steady until half past twelve, when Angel came in and announced that the guys wanted to go to the Barking Crab for lunch and wondered if we'd join them.

I looked over to Rodriguez, and he made a motion with his hand that was shooing me off to join the team.

"Don't you think we should _both_ go?" I asked, trying to emphasize the word _both_, implying I wanted him there.

He looked up with a most curious expression, "Why? They want to spend time with _you_."

"And they can, but I'll feel more comfortable if you're there, too," I said, trying to bribe him.

Angel made a comment that they'd leave to walk over in ten minutes and to come out once we'd settled things in here. Smart man...

"You don't need me there. You just feel pity at the thought of me being stuck in here, and out of some sense of moral obligation, you're trying to get me out of the office," he argued.

"No, I feel as though I owe you a huge apology for assuming you were implying I was a slut in the office and for calling you an ass. See? No pity involved. This is all to clear my own conscience."

I watched as the corner of one side of his mouth tightened. He looked just like Bobby did when he was trying not to smile.

"I'm not here to clear your conscience," he finally spoke.

"Then come to clear your debt. I shared my cookies with you," I reminded him.

"No," he disagreed quickly. "You gave me what your mother designated was mine."

"True," I conceded, "but I could have easily removed that post-it note and you never would have known the difference."

"Ah, now we're back to your conscience. If you'd done that, you would have been consumed with guilt and eventually tried to give them to me," he speculated.

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" I asked, not sure if I wanted that to be offensive, or if I really wanted to know the answer.

He gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, before saying, "I just sit back and observe. It's a lot more informative than asking for the answers from people."

There was a knock at the door, and Red stuck his head in. "Are you coming, girlie?"

I shivered at the use of the word girlie. I mean, I have plenty of nicknames, and while I don't exactly like some of them, I've never had one give me a full body shiver.

I glanced over at Rodriguez, who was sizing up the Viking imposter at the door. Standing up in a move so fluid he reminded me of a cat, Rodriguez came over and said, "Come on, Stephanie. Let's go to lunch. I wouldn't want you to have an attack of your conscience this afternoon." As he spoke, his words sounded light, but the stare he was leveling at Red was anything but.

I don't know if the big guy was used to people scowling at him or not, but he didn't act like anything was amiss.

Rodriguez walked in front of me and turned back just as we got to the door. "What's going on?"

I was getting whiplash from the number of mood swings he was throwing my way, but my gut said despite his ornery nature, I could trust him if things weren't right, so I told him, "I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about him that rubs me the wrong way. That nickname, the way he spoke so freely yesterday... It's demeaning."

"I'm not trying to be an ass, but how is it different from the guys in Trenton?" he asked, his gaze moving between my eyes, trying to read me.

"Except for Lester, none of the guys back home said or did anything risqué until we knew each other. It started with talking, working together for a while, and then we would pick on each other and lob verbal jabs back and forth. Over time, that led to what you saw on Friday. But no one there has ever said or done anything to make me uncomfortable. If they did, I'd tell them so, and I can guarantee they'd apologize, feel terrible, and it would never happen again," I explained, feeling like it didn't even touch the surface. "I trust the guys in Trenton, because they've proven themselves to me time and time again, so I know even if what they say might sound offensive, it's spoken in love. I'm like the outlandish little sister to all the guys."

"They don't treat you like a sister," he pointed out.

"We didn't know each other as kids, so there isn't the yuck factor of making a lewd comment to an actual relative, but I can guarantee if a skip got the better of me during a distraction, their response would be hardcore enough to make you think of an overprotective big brother," I added.

"That, I've seen," he replied, opening the door.

How was that possible? As far as I knew, he worked only at night and rarely left the building.

"You so aren't leaving that sentence there," I tried to argue, but there was a group of eight or nine waiting for us in the hall who seemed excited that we were going out with them, so I couldn't drag any more information from my partner.

We walked about six blocks to a place on the water of the Boston Harbor called the Barking Crab. There was the actual restaurant, but we sat outside in a big tent-looking contraption at the front that was filled with long picnic style tables.

Rodriguez had stayed back as we walked, but when Red began to move my way while we were working out who would sit where, I was relieved that Rodriguez slipped in and sat down beside me before Red had a chance to claim the seat.

They started up once more, asking about my misadventures, my love for rolling in garbage, and for bringing in skips that weren't fully clothed. I tried to answer their questions in good humor, but after a while, it gets annoying to have all your faults pointed out by men who haven't seen any of your successes.

It was Rodriguez that spoke up in the middle of the laughter after one of my infamous takedowns to say, "And despite all this, Stephanie is the only RangeMan employee with a one hundred percent capture record. She has never failed to bring in a skip on time. So even though some of her methods are a bit untraditional, in Trenton, we don't so much laugh about what happened as we do scratch our heads that despite the overwhelming odds against her, she has never been unsuccessful."

That brought a cover of silence over the table.

"You've never had one slip through your hands?" Angel asked in disbelief.

"Oh, I've had plenty of them slip through my hands. That's why I've gotten so particular in how I run searches. When they get away, I go back to the drawing board and come up with a better plan to get them the next day. If you try something enough times, you are eventually successful. I don't think I have any real skills. I'm just stubborn enough to refuse to give up," I pointed out, not overly comfortable with the looks of awe that were coming my way at the moment.

"I'm sure you've got skills," Red said, while letting his eyes go down my side.

I picked up my glass and took a sip of water to hide my amusement when Rodriguez leaned forward to block Red's view.

Needle spoke up next. "How many times has Bobby had to patch you up?" He wasn't smiling, so I didn't think he was making fun of me.

I tried to search my mind for a real answer, and then realized it was impossible. "Too many to count."

Needle whistled. "So what happens if you get injured? I mean, how do the guys react usually?"

That was an unexpected question. "It depends on why I'm injured. If it happens because of my own stupidity, they offer to help me the next time, or they take me to the gym and try to teach me ways to prevent the same thing from happening again. But if a skips hurts me on a distraction…"

Rodriguez spoke up with a cold edge to his voice, "The last skip thought he'd use Stephanie as a human shield coming out of a night club. He twisted her wrist and held it behind her back with enough pressure to sprain it. When Manny snuck up behind him and took the skip down, the official report was that the skip resisted, and then in the resulting skirmish to restrain him, he managed to fall down the flight of stairs, bruising his kidneys, fracturing a rib, busting his nose, and cutting his face. The police questioned how he managed to do so much damage, considering there were only three steps leading out of the nightclub, but they couldn't prove any different, so that's still the official record."

"Why risk the heat with the cops if you had the skip in custody?" Needle asked.

Scar spoke up this time. He'd been at the distraction Rodriguez was talking about, so he had details that could help. "The skip was a real bastard and wouldn't have hesitated to sacrifice her life to save his own. The things he said to her and the way he was planning on hurting her couldn't go unpunished. She risks her life to do these kinds of takedowns for RangeMan, so having her back is the least they can do."

Angel whistled. "Why do I get the feeling the distractions you're going to help out with are going to be eye opening?"

"Usually, everything goes smoothly. But every so often, a skip does something or gets spooked, and it can get ugly really fast. That's why I need a team to back me up that I can depend on. I wouldn't be comfortable doing the things I do to lure out the bad guys if I didn't have my co-workers watching out for me. I trust them, because they've proven themselves to be trustworthy time and time again," I explained.

"But you aren't military. What do you know about having someone's back?" Red asked with a condescending tone full of doubt.

"Do you know what happened the last time Ranger was shot?" Rodriguez asked the table.

Everyone shook their head no, so he told the story about Ranger seeing one of their higher level skips while he was on a standard surveillance shift. It was just me with him in the car, so he didn't have any real backup, but he didn't know when he'd have another chance like that to catch the guy without anyone else around to interfere, so he told me to call the Control Room and have them send over a team to assist, and then he got out to track the skip, locking me in the car alone with a command to stay put.

I liked Rodriguez's version of what happened.

"Ranger got the sneak on the guy, but before he could get the cuffs on him, the skip pulled a gun and got a shot off into Ranger's leg, and then pistol whipped him, knocking him out briefly," Rodriguez continued. "With Ranger on the ground, the skip lifted the gun and pointed it to the boss' head, ready to take him out. Stephanie here jumped out the car and started running toward them, calling out for Fluffy."

I'd pretended to be frantically searching for a lost dog as an excuse to happen upon them.

"When the skip saw her, he lifted his gun to her, but she broke into some sob story about losing her dog and him being really bad with strangers and she was afraid he would attack someone if they tried to catch him. Then she looked at Ranger lying in a pool of blood and started screeching hysterically that Fluffy must have gotten here first and bitten the poor man in the leg. She got between the skip and Ranger to protect him with her own body and bought the boss enough time to come around," Rodriguez said, finishing the story.

Some of the guys were smiling, and some were shaking their head in disbelief.

"Why would you put yourself in front of a bullet like that?" one of the guys asked.

I shrugged. "Ranger's put himself in front of a lot of guns for me, so returning the favor wasn't a decision I made – it was a gut instinct of what had to be done. Besides, it ended well, because I bought enough time for the guys to show up. Ram hit the guy with a tranquilizer gun and knocked him out. Bobby came over and checked out Ranger, so as it turns out, I didn't do much."

"But you could have died. It isn't what you did; it was what you were willing to do that shows you understand what it means to have someone's back. That's why the guys at home fight for a chance to be out in the field with you. They might come back with a funny story to tell in the break room, but if it turns ugly, they know you won't desert them, and in this business, that's important," Rodriguez explained, as though he had some firsthand knowledge of what it was like to work with me in the field.

The table was strangely quiet as our lunches came. It was Angel that spoke up again. "So how did they get such a tight knit team down there?"

"I guess it just developed over time," I offered, not really sure what the answer was.

I looked over at Rodriguez, who was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

A waitress walked over to refill all the glasses and poured water on the table instead, while ogling so many well built, good looking men in black. I understood the reaction, having seen it so many times when I was out with my guys.

In the confusion of her apologizing, the guys trying to flirt with her, albeit awkwardly, and then picking on each other for none of them getting even a sign of interest from her, Rodriguez leaned over and said, "You know exactly why they are a tight knit team. They found something to unite them, and they rallied around it."

"But if they ask what that thing they rallied around was, how do I answer that?" I asked, refusing to have a conversation with a group of men that sounded like I was saying I was the answer to their problems.

"You don't need to answer it, because they need to find their own thing," he said, shaking his glass so he got a mouthful of ice that he started to crunch in his mouth.

I watched him for a minute, trying to figure him out. When pushed into speaking in front of the group this morning, he'd seemed nervous, but at lunch, he was volunteering to share stories with the guys. He had a way of blending in, or even disappearing within the group, but despite his silence, I could almost see the leader within him. I could so easily picture him fully dressed on a takedown, leading the charge. Of course, that made no sense, as I'd never seen him do anything other than sit in a chair and talk. But there was something in the way his eyes moved that told me he was constantly scanning the area for threats. He seemed to be relaxed, with one hand resting on the crook of the opposite arm, and his left hand still holding that glass of ice, but I could see a tension in his muscles that contradicted the laid back front he was trying to sell.

I leaned in a little more and asked, "Are you going to tell me what the M stands for?"

His head whipped around in surprise, and I tried to hide my joy at shocking the quiet man. It almost seemed mean to try and spook him, but I had gotten such a kick out of that, I felt like I had a new hobby.

"No," he finally answered, not giving me what I was hoping for.

"Why not?" I pushed, trying to keep from sounding like a teenager whose parents just took away her keys to the car.

"You want to know, find out on your own," he said with a partially masked smile. He refused to give in and let the whole expression take over his face, but I could tell that shutting me down was something he seemed to enjoy.

Now I had a new mission. I was going to see what Rodriguez looked like when he relaxed enough to let himself fully smile. It might take years to get to that point, but like I'd told the guys, I was just stubborn enough to not give up until I got my way.

We stood up to head back, and Angel and Rodriguez stood on either side of me for the walk to the office. We talked about the session that morning and our plan for the remaining five groups. There were a few files that had already presented themselves as ideal for a distraction takedown, so we talked about how to prepare the team for what would come next.

By the time we were done with the afternoon group, I was beat. It wasn't like I was working any harder than I did in Trenton, but something about feeling like I was on display here was exhausting, so after eating with a different group of guys in the break room for dinner, I was ready to call it a night.

I got a text as I was entering the elevator by myself and looked at the number, not recognizing it. It read simply: _Don't you think it's time to get some rest? You look beat_.

I went back to look at the number and saw it was a Trenton area code. It wasn't any of my guys, or their name would have popped up from my contacts. I took a chance that it was Rodriguez and texted back, _I thought you were opposed to taking care of people_.

It took a few minutes for a response to come back. _I said I didn't need it, but you were right – after working with __you, I'm__ concerned._

I gave him a standard smiley face of a colon, a dash, and a right parenthesis, in lieu of any words. According to what he'd said that morning, he didn't need a lot of conversation, preferring to rely on his visual observations. Hopefully, he'd get my message loud and clear.

I set down my laptop bag and cell phone on the couch and picked up my magic eight ball to ask, "Am I finally getting through to him?"

The answer _Better Not Tell You Now_ came back, and I laughed out loud.

It might not seem that encouraging to some people, but at least it wasn't a negative answer. I'd take it and deny that it could mean anything other than I was making progress.


	7. Marco

_The Plum Universe below is all courtesy of JE._

_Jen (JenRar) thank you so much for sticking with me as the beta on this story. _

**Chapter 7 - Marco...**

We'd been in Boston for five days and had finished the training on running searches and planning takedown strategies. I don't know that everyone really had it, but enough of them did that I felt like they could easily build a team to coordinate the function moving forward.

Today's goal was to talk about distractions with the five men who made up the core team of the Boston office. I sat down next to Rodriguez in the small conference room we'd been using as our training center. He handed me some notes he'd written on a legal pad. Under my name, he'd listed: 1. When to use a distraction, 2. Purpose of the distraction, 3. Team members and responsibilities, 4. Actual take down, and 5. Post Distraction/Debrief. He had his name at the bottom, with nothing written underneath it.

"Am I supposed to talk about all of these?" I asked, pointing to the numbered items.

He nodded once, and I smiled at the thought that even in his non-verbal communication, he was brief.

"Where's your list of topics?" I asked, assuming he had another sheet for himself.

He pointed to his name at the bottom of my list.

"There's nothing here," I said, pointing out the obvious.

"I don't work on distractions. This is fieldwork, and as you pointed out a few days ago, I'm a computer geek," he replied, glancing around the room instead of looking at me.

It seemed every day began this way. He would be distant and aloof in any communication, but as the day progressed, he would speak a little more and make eye contact, as well. By the end of the day, I would feel like I was getting through to him. Then the sun would rise once more, and I'd have to start pushing the stone uphill once more.

"Do you have an easy distraction file selected?" I asked, hoping he would volunteer to describe why he'd picked that case.

Rodriguez pointed to the table in front of me at the file he'd set there prior to my entry.

"You're really not going to help with this part at all?" I asked, trying not to act as hurt as I felt at the idea that he was forcing me to do this completely alone.

"I'm here. You aren't completely alone," he replied.

Huh? "Did I say that last part out loud?" I questioned.

He looked at me this time and nodded yes.

"Shit. I've got to stop doing that." I fussed at myself under my breath.

"Makes it easier to work with you if I know what's going on in your head," Rodriguez replied, as though my aside was directed at him.

Before I could tell him to stay away from my personal thoughts, Angel shut the door and asked me to get things started.

I used the list Rodriguez gave me and explained distractions to the core team. "We use them in cases where their background check gives us a reason to think they'll be successful, like they have a thing for picking up women, or they frequent a specific bar or club. We also use them if they are usually surrounded by a group of friends or guards when they go out, as a means to separate them from their protection. And finally, we use them if all our other ideas haven't worked.

"The purpose would be to get them away from any innocent people to a place where RangeMan can secure the skip quietly, efficiently, and safely," I instructed, trying to remember how Ranger had explained why he continued to use me in this role.

The team member responsibilities were harder to detail, because it varied by location, but I informed them that at a minimum, there needed to be two people at each exit to handle the take down, a man behind the bar, a man at the entrance to insure I got in, and at least one person that could be floating inside to be sure things didn't get out of control.

"Why do we need a bartender?" Needle asked, looking up from the notes he was hastily scribbling.

"Well, we do it in Trenton because there is no way to gauge how long it will take me to get the skip to follow me outside, and that means I may need to continuing consuming beverage after beverage. My tolerance for alcohol is pretty low, so there've been a few cases where I would have been too drunk to get the job done if someone wasn't insuring my drinks had no alcohol in them," I explained, embarrassed that I required an additional person to be staffed for the distraction.

"So RangeMan has to pay another person because you're a booze lightweight?" Red asked with a smirk.

Rodriguez jumped in. "No, we do it to insure no one slips anything into her drink and to be sure if we have to give a statement to the authorities regarding the take down that we can guarantee no one involved had any drugs or alcohol in their system."

I looked at him, and for a brief second, he returned my gaze before his eyes fell back to the laptop he seemed to cling to like a baby with a security blanket.

I decided to move on and ignore Red as much as possible. "Once I have the skip ready to leave, we usually have a designated door to exit through, but sometimes that plan is ruined, which is why we need teams at every possible exit. I try to walk out first so that the guys can separate me from the skip for the take down. If that isn't possible, I try to warn everyone by saying something as we're leaving so the guys are ready for the skip to walk out first."

"And after the takedown you, go home, we take the guy back to jail, and someone has to file the paperwork, right?" Angel asked, helping to sum up the rest.

"Something like that," I said with a nod, not wanting to rain on their parade, but thinking over how some distractions ended badly requiring a little more work than that to get to the filing paperwork stage.

Rodriguez spoke up once more. "If something goes wrong, someone is assigned to watch over Stephanie so that if medical attention is necessary, she gets it immediately. We also like to be sure there is a way to get her out of the sight of the skip so that if a crowd begins to gather, she isn't associated with what just happened."

I looked at him, trying to figure out how he knew so much about the ins and outs of distractions, considering he'd never worked one with me. "You know you are going to have to explain knowing that, right?" I whispered to him.

He leaned back over and replied, "Who do you think came up with the idea of distractions as a take down technique in the first place?"

"Should I be thanking you for the source of revenue you invented for me?" I asked, trying to make a joke.

His face was all business as he looked me in the eye to reply, "I'd think you should be suing me for putting you into unnecessary danger."

I didn't have a chance to grill him further, because the guys had what felt like a limitless supply of questions for us, which took up the next few hours. I also thought we needed to prepare them for what could go wrong, so I gave them two of my worse experiences as examples of what they should be prepared to handle, even if they thought it was all strategized perfectly.

When I was finished, I saw Needle's pencil was broken, the mark on Scar's face was darker and more pronounced than I'd ever seen it, Michael was rubbing the back of his neck as though it were covered in poison ivy, and Angel had his hand over his mouth to keep from making a sound. Red was the only one sitting there unphased by my experiences.

I looked at Rodriguez just as he shut his laptop with enough force to keep it from ever working properly again. Then he stood up and walked out without so much as a look back or a word about where he was headed.

Wow, I guess I had a real gift for ruining a mood.

Angel looked at his watch, and then announced, "It's time to break for lunch. Let's meet back here at 1400 hours and strategize the file Rodriguez selected for us. It would be nice to pull this off tonight, but now, I'm not so sure we have the time to pull the contingency plans together."

No one said a thing as the men all stood and walked out, leaving me by myself. I tried to figure out what had happened with Rodriguez and why he'd left me to handle the end of the meeting by myself. I was lost in my thoughts when the door opened again and Angel came in alone, holding his laptop.

He set it down on the table in front of me and hit a few buttons, pulling up the feed from the gym, where Rodriguez was currently working over one of the large punching bags with a force I didn't think him capable of. I'd watched Ranger with a bag before – well, to be more precise, I'd drooled over Ranger working out like that – so I knew how it was supposed to be done. What I was seeing almost had the appearance that Angel was fast forwarding the tape, except that I could see the time stamp progressing at the normal pace.

"Do we wait this out, or does someone need to go in and talk to him?" Angel asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"What do you usually do when someone goes down there to work off steam?" I asked, not sure why he was deferring to me on this.

"Depends on who it is. Usually, we wait it out, but there are a few guys that once they get into this, the only way to stop it is to have Needle go in and drug them. After they come to, they're usually in a better place to talk about what set them off," Angel explained, carefully choosing his words.

"Trouble is, from what I understand, Rodriguez won't talk about it after he comes to, and according to Bobby, he's never been able to sneak up on him close enough to sedate him," Angel added, effectively taking away one of the options.

There was no way I was going to send Needle in there, knowing there was a chance Rodriguez might turn some of his fury on him unintentionally. I tried to reason out what I knew about the man I'd spent so much time with over the last few days to figure out what he'd want.

Angel spoke up once more to say, "The way he's going after that bag barehanded, I figure he's only got another five minutes or so before he starts doing serious damage to his hands."

I didn't need to think anymore. "Tell Needle to have a sedative on standby, but unless I specifically call out for backup, nobody comes in the gym." I stood up and began walking downstairs.

"What if he turns on you?" Angel called out, obviously not comfortable with my plan of trying to talk him down alone.

"Wait until I call out for help," I repeated without slowing down. "No matter what it might look like, you don't let anyone in that gym unless I ask for it."

"Shit!" was the last thing I heard Angel say as I went down the steps.

I could hear Rodriguez's fists on the bag as soon as I exited the stairwell. I'd seen some of the guys' knuckles when they'd done this without gloves or tape, and I cringed at how bruised and bloodied his hands probably already were. I needed to get through to him before he started doing damage to bones or ligaments.

With my resolve strengthened, I opened the door and walked over to stop beside him. I knew better than to scare him by talking behind him where he couldn't see me, and I didn't think it was a good idea to suddenly appear in his field of vision directly within reach of his arms in front of him, so I stayed where he might see me peripherally, but far enough away that he couldn't get to me without taking a few steps.

"Do you want to tell me what just happened?" I asked.

Of course there was no response; he didn't even slow down the pace of his punches.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Rodriguez?" I tried again.

Still nothing.

I looked back to the door and could see through the glass inset that Angel and Needle were both looking at me.

I picked up my phone and texted Ranger. _What is Rodriguez's first name? It starts with an M._

I tried a few more conversation starters with no success, before I received a text back.

_Marco._

I decided to take a chance, and moving three small steps closer, I said, "Rodriguez."

When he continued to pummel the bag, I took a deep breath and called out, "Marco!"

I'd never seen someone move as quickly as he did. One moment, his fists were on the bag; the next minute, he was pushing me backward until my body hit the wall a good fifteen feet away.

I felt the air leave my lungs, but I refused to look away from his eyes, hoping he would focus on me and realize what he was doing. We stood there, me with my hands by my side trying to be as still as possible, and Rodriguez with his hands pushing my shoulders into the wall. He was breathing fast, and his eyes were wide, fully dilated, hardly any of his brown color noticeable with the huge black iris in the center taking over from panic.

As the seconds turned to minutes, I watched as his eyes began to return to normal. Slowly, the brown began to show up again, and with our faces so close, I noticed there were a few golden flecks floating in the darker color. He was maybe four inches taller than me, standing at six feet even, but with his muscles so tight and the intensity of his stare, it felt like he was towering above me.

Finally, he began to blink, and I knew he was seeing me, really recognizing his surroundings for the first time. I willed myself to relax so that he wouldn't think I was afraid of him.

"Stephanie…" he started to speak, but seemed completely confused.

I figured since I'd gotten through to him once with first name, I'd try it again. "Marco, it's okay. The discussion about distractions that went wrong set you off, and you came down here, but I was worried that you were hurting yourself more than you were getting out whatever demons chased you downstairs, so I came down to check on you. You're all right." I have no idea where the words came from or how I was able to keep my voice so even and calm.

His arms began to shake like the muscles were being overtaxed. His mouth was open, but it took a few seconds for the words to come out. "I could have…didn't realize you…" Clearly, his mouth was ahead of his brain.

Whatever had happened had obviously scared the shit out of him, so I did what I remembered my mother doing when I was afraid as a little girl. I lifted my hand slowly between us and opened my fingers so that he could see there was nothing in my hand to hurt him. As I began to move toward the right side of his head, his eyes got larger and focused on the movement coming at him, but he made no move to get away.

"You're okay," I assured him as my fingers made contact with the unfairly soft dark hair that was cut about a half inch all over, yet seemed to grow in a perfect style on its on. There was no gel or spray to make it stay in place, giving me one more reason to envy his perfect hair.

I kept my movement small and at a snail's pace so that it served more as a source of contact than pleasure. His breathing slowed down and eventually settled into a normal rate, just as he let his head fall forward and hang loosely on his neck, preventing me from seeing his face.

I was about to try talking to him once more, when I felt his body shudder. The trembling grew stronger, so I lifted a second hand to the left side of his head, hoping he would accept the contact.

I thought I'd made a bad move when my hands began to slowly stroke him in tandem, because his knees buckled and he let go of my shoulders to collapse at my feet and cling to my waist. I could tell there were tears on his face, but I didn't want to bring attention to them. Instead, I continued my gentle touches, reminding him verbally that he was okay and that I wasn't going to hurt him.

In between the noises he was making that I guessed were sobs, he began to ramble, "I didn't know…"

I assumed he meant he didn't know it was me that called his name, so I assured him, "I'm sorry I startled you. I just needed to get your attention. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"No, I didn't know what the distractions would do. I'd been out of the field long enough that on paper, it seemed like the right thing to do. When we started using it for more violent skips and you got hurt, I wanted to stop, but the guys convinced me it was still effective. So I kept sending you out after the worst kinds of people, putting you out there to be…" He left that thought unvoiced.

I wanted to look at him, so I reached down to pry his hands off of my waist to allow me to sit down, but he tightened his grip and shook his head no. I took the hint and began running my hands through his hair once more, hoping it would encourage him to talk.

"You kept going, no matter what crazy thing I proposed. You kept going and bringing the skips out. I had to stay away from you so you didn't become a person, or I wouldn't have been able to send you out to pick up those…"

I knew he was thinking of the rapists and abusers that I'd lured out. If any element of the plan had gone wrong, I would have suffered the consequences.

Now I understood why I'd never met him until this trip, but according to the guys, he'd shut down before I came on board. I kept rubbing, and he kept apologizing. Finally, when I thought my own heart would break from the pain he was pouring out, I spoke much firmer and louder than I had been, interrupting his litany of pleas for forgiveness.

"Marco, you have to let this go. I never go on a distraction just because you set it up. I go because the guys asked me, and after reviewing the case file, I know if I don't do this, the skip is going to hurt someone else. But it's always my choice; I'm never forced to do it. If you didn't plan it out in such a controlled way, there is a high probability that I'd try and go after some of these people on my own, just to keep them from hurting another woman, and then I'd definitely be in trouble. I'm impulsive and lack the ability to vet out all the possible ways a plan can go wrong, so I need the work you put into the strategy. And when it goes south, it has nothing to do with your plan. Sometimes skips do things none of us expect, and sometimes it's because one of the guys failed to do what they were assigned to do, like getting their weapons at the door, or keeping an eye on me inside. I may have gotten banged up or knocked around a few times, but your plans didn't cause that – the skips did. I'm not going to let you shoulder this kind of guilt over something that is absolutely not your fault."

As I lectured him, he shook his head no, as if demanding his mind not accept the understanding I was offering.

I jerked to the side when he wasn't expecting it, so I managed to get loose from his grip in order to get on my knees in front of him, once more leveling us to be eye to eye. He tried to drop his head to keep me from seeing him, but I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Oh no, you don't, Marco. You don't shut me out now," I commanded, framing his face with my hands on either side and lightly shaking his head to be sure I had his attention.

"I'm not sure where all this came from," I began, holding his eyes with mine, "but there is no way you are at fault for the injuries I've gotten on the job. Like you told me a few days ago, I tend to get hurt because of my own stupidity, so you definitely aren't the cause of that."

He was listening, but I didn't know if he was really hearing me. I left one hand on his face to steady him and used the other to stoke his hair again. "This isn't your fault. I don't blame you, and I won't let you blame yourself."

He rocked back to sit on his heels, forcing me to let him go. I waited for him to make another move, but when it became apparent that he wasn't going to, I reached out and picked up his right hand, grimacing when I saw its condition. It was bruised, the skin was split in several places, and the ridge over his knuckles was beginning to swell slightly.

"Your hands," I murmured softly, wondering how much pain he was in.

He lifted his head and looked at what I was seeing without a response. With his eyes still focused on our joined hands, he said, "You really are fearless. I've heard the guys talk about you for three years now and I'd seen your work so I knew you were smart, but at the end of the day, I told myself you were just another pretty face. But you're…"

The door to the gym swung open, and we both looked around to see who had intruded.

Needle was standing there at least twenty feet away, his hands in the air. "The boss sent me in to be sure you guys were okay. We were going to pick up again in twenty minutes. Do you need more time?"

I had no idea I'd been in the gym for an hour and a half.

Rodriguez spoke up and said, "We'll be there."

Needle was smart enough to know he was being dismissed, so he walked out quickly, holding the door to make it close without sound.

Still, the interruption had ruined the mood, and I let his hand go when I felt him pull back. "Come on," I said, standing up. "Let's clean up your hands and see if we can deal with it or if we need to go see Needle."

"It's okay," he said, sounding like a child afraid of going to the doctor.

I was pleased to see that he followed me over to the sink in the corner and let me put his hands under the cold water. Once the water began to run clear, I searched the cabinets until I found the one with towels so I could blot off the water to dry his hands.

He watched me with the strangest expression – a mixture of detachment and curiosity. If I didn't know better, I would say he was watching me treat someone else's hands. I had a feeling no one had touched him since he began to withdraw three years ago.

"We need to grab some lunch," I told him once I'd done everything I knew to do. I walked away, hoping he'd follow, since it had worked the last time.

Just before I reached the gym door, he spoke up. "You didn't have to do this."

I turned to face him to prove I wasn't afraid of him after seeing his anger. "Yes, I did."

"I mean, I would have worn myself down eventually and gone up to my apartment to sleep it off," he explained, at least letting me know what usually happened in these situations.

"At what cost?" I pushed.

He gave me a wrinkled brow as a response.

"You would have exhausted yourself, but by the time that happened, you would have done some serious damage to your hands, and that's not acceptable," I explained.

Rodriguez gave me a dry laugh and said, "I used to be a nice guy." He ran his hand through his hair, and then looked at his fingers as though they held some secret of the universe. "I don't really mean to be an ass; I'm just out of practice at being anything else."

Now it was my turn to laugh at his attempt of an apology. "Don't worry; I'll be glad to point it out if you start falling into old habits."

He lifted his face to look at me, probably trying to tell if I was being serious or not. "I don't doubt that you will," he stated, walking past me to hold the door open.

We climbed the stairs up two flights and slipped into the break room to pick up something to eat so we could start back on time.

For the rest of the afternoon as we continued going over the standard procedures for distractions, and then went over the file that was preselected, I tried to resist the urge to look to my right to see what he was doing. His lack of participation was noticeable, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and risk him shutting down again.

After going over the file and seeing we had plenty of time, Angel made the decision to move forward with the pick up tonight. He'd have a few guys in place in the bar at 2100 hours, and they'd call if the skip showed up. I counted down on my fingers to realize that meant I had plenty of time to get ready, since the earliest we'd leave would be nine o'clock.

Just as we finished, one of the guys came in, holding a box, and brought it over to me.

I saw that it was from my mother, and then wondered how I would get it open. I felt Rodriguez take the box from my hand and watched as he flipped his knife out and sliced easily through the packaging tape, before handing it back to me.

"Thank you," I offered.

"Don't thank me... I just did it so I would be here when you opened it, in case there's a refill in there for me. I don't know if I can trust you to hand them over and not just rip my name off the top and keep them all for yourself," he replied without even hinting at a smile.

I opened the box, holding the flaps up so that he couldn't see what I had. I couldn't stop the grin that came over my face when I saw she'd packed me a few treats, but the primary items in the box were the two tins of equal size – one for me, and one for Rodriguez.

I looked up at him and saw him looking at me expectantly – almost as though he were positive I had something for him and he was just waiting for me to hand it over.

I refused to give him the satisfaction, so I shut the flaps, tucking one in to hold it closed, and then stood up, holding the package tightly in my hands.

I moved quickly to the open door, before saying, "I think it's time for me to work on those attacks of conscience I've been struggling with."

I got one step away, before he called out, "You're being an ass!"

I poked my head back through the door to reply, "Yeah, I hear that's a danger in working closely with someone. They tend to wear off on you."


	8. Distraction

_Janet Evanovich created the world below; I am merely playing with her genius._

_Jen (JenRar) I can't thank you enough for letting me bury you in chapters that you have to beta your way through. Thank you!_

**Chapter 8 - Distraction**

Why was I nervous about this distraction? Honestly, I didn't usually get this worked up while getting dressed, even when I was going after a serial rapist. The guy tonight had an MO for picking up women in bars, and then having a one night stand with them before stealing their purse while they slept, in order to take their identity, quickly drain their bank account, and max out their credit cards.

I needed to look like an easy pick up, with the possibility for having plenty of money to burn. I had my idea for how I wanted to act, but figuring out my look was going to be a little trickier. For one thing I didn't have my full wardrobe here, so I had to work with the six outfits I'd packed. That may sound like a lot of dresses, but none of them really fit the bill, so I was going to have to get creative.

I still had an hour and my hair and make up were finished, so I was literally down to just slipping on my dress and shoes to be done. Realizing I was in a holding pattern, unable to make a decision, my eyes fell to the magic eight ball. I almost picked it up, but I realized there was no way it was going to pick out a dress for me, so I did the next best thing. Well, he's usually covered in black and full of answers, so it was easy to see how I made the connection.

"Yo."

Just hearing his voice on my phone instantly calmed my nerves.

"Hey, Batman," I replied, missing the brief encounters we shared back home.

"Everything okay?" he asked, probably wondering why I was calling.

"First distraction here is tonight," I offered, feeling like a school girl, unable to get my words out.

"You worried?" he asked in a tone that told me I had his full attention.

That was the thing I most appreciated about Ranger. There was no doubt that he was a busy man. It seemed that everybody needed something from him; between his business, his contracts, and his other commitments, Ranger's calendar was steadily booked. But when he talked to me, I felt like he was completely focused on what I was saying and my feelings were the most important thing to him in that moment.

"I don't know what to wear," I confessed, almost able to picture him sitting back in his seat and smiling at the reason for my call.

"Tell me about the skip," he suggested, giving me a chance to run through the file and the pick up plan once more. Saying it out loud made me feel a little more prepared.

The he lowered his voice and said, "Okay, now tell me about your dress options and describe them well so I can picture how they'd look on you."

I laughed. "Ranger, are you asking me to turn this into a dirty phone call?"

"No, that wasn't my intent, but if you are suggesting it, I'll be glad to shut my door," he teased.

I ignored his comment, but couldn't stop a smile from breaking out on my face. I spent the next ten minutes talking about my clothes and relaxing with a little banter back and forth with Ranger. In the end, he told me to go with the more conservative red dress. It would make the statement that I was out on the town, but because it wasn't the sluttiest dress I had, it might give the impression that I was just new enough to the whole pick up scene that I'd be more likely to fall asleep after sex, giving the skip a chance to take my purse and run.

After he helped me through the selection process, I thanked him for his help.

"I told you to call me anytime for anything, and I meant it," he reminded me.

I glanced at my watch and saw I was now down to just fifteen minutes before I needed to be downstairs. I guess the conversation with Ranger had taken a lot longer than I thought. I rushed off the phone to his amusement and threw on the dress, picked my best stilettos to match, and then grabbed a black sequined bag, much larger than I'd usually use on a distraction, but I knew it would hold my large wallet and be visible to the skip against the red dress.

At two minutes before nine, I walked out of my apartment, ready to roll. When I made it to the larger conference room, I blushed at the cat calls and whistles. I looked around and finally relaxed when my eyes landed on Rodriguez, who was sitting at the table, focused on his smart phone. He looked up as though he somehow knew I was watching him and nodded once, acknowledging me.

Angel was briefing the guys who were in the room, letting us know there were two exits at the bar and we'd have two guys at each. Michael was behind the bar and would give me virgin versions of whatever I ordered. Scar was in the club to keep an eye on everything and had just called to say our skip was there. Red was at the door and would let me in when I arrived. Everybody had their comm units, which Angel instructed should be switched to channel four. Then he gave the command to roll out.

I held up my hand and said, "Umm, guys?"

"Yeah, Steph?" Angel asked. I could see the gears in his head spinning, trying to work out what he might have forgotten and coming up empty.

"I need a mic so you can hear what's going on," I pointed out.

There were a lot of eyes cutting around as they tried to see who was responsible for grabbing my wire, but everyone seemed to come up blank. Rodriguez came forward and opened his hand to give me one of the tiny little mics with a short antenna. He was shaking his head, as though he couldn't believe the guys had forgotten something so obvious.

I took the unit from his hand and looked around to see everybody watching me. "You guys can go. I'll get this settled and meet you in the garage," I instructed, not willing to give anyone a chance to offer their assistance in getting it positioned under my dress.

Once I was alone, I reached down to plant it under my left breast, and then checked to be sure it couldn't be seen. Luckily, this dress was tight and short, but the neckline wasn't too low, so I figured I was safe.

I caught up with the guys in the garage and rode in an Explorer with Needle, Angel, and Rodriguez. They all said they would be outside to observe, but they didn't have an assigned role, other than getting me out once it was over. Knowing they would be there, completely focused on what was going on, was a comfort, too. I knew I was a little more nervous than usual because none of the guys I'd worked with were backing me up. This must be how the guys feel when they go somewhere that didn't allow them to bring their weapons.

Angel made a couple of calls as we pulled up to the bar, and then turned around to confirm everyone was in place. He asked if I needed anything else, and I told him no, even though I felt like something was off. I glanced at Rodriguez, wishing he'd worked on some of these in Trenton so that he would know what I needed, but he just returned my look without saying anything, so I opened the door and got out.

"Stephanie," I heard him call out as he opened his own door and jogged around to where I was waiting beside the truck. "What's wrong?" he asked perceptively.

I shook my head. "I don't know, but something feels off. I think I'm just struggling because I've never worked with the guys here on a distraction and I don't have that assurance of knowing that no matter what happens, they will cover me."

He looked at me and said nothing for just long enough that I began to wonder if he was going to respond. Then he did the unexpected and said, "I'll be in there. No matter what happens, you'll be okay."

"But you don't work in the field," I pointed out, not trying to be insulting, but wondering if he really wanted to suit up, especially after what had happened in the gym.

His eyes narrowed. "It was my choice to step away from it, and I'm not saying I want to jump back in, but for you, for tonight, I'm good."

I took a step away, and then asked, "You dressed?"

I got the best reward possible for my question – he smiled at me as he answered, "Fully." Then his eyes went down to my shoes and slowly worked their way back up to my face. "Of course, not as well as you, but I'm at least covered for anything that might happen."

That tiny little banter and the look in his eyes as he assessed me was what I needed to find my attitude and strut away to show these guys from Boston how a distraction was supposed to work.

I walked up to Red at the door, and he looked me over, showing more than just professional interest in my dress and cleavage. I ignored him and stepped in when he opened the door.

I took a minute at the door to let my eyes adjust to the dark and my ears to take in the blaring music. Then I saw the skip sitting at a very crowded bar. There wasn't a stool available anywhere, which was going to make this much more difficult, but before I could come up with any contingency plans, I saw the man to the right of the skip was Scar and knew when I approached, he'd give me his stool.

With the first hurdle cleared, I put a hand on my hip and began to snake my way through the crowd. Sure enough, when I stopped right behind the skip, Scar stood and nodded at me, indicating I could have his seat. I thanked him, and then climbed up on the stool and crossed my leg, allowing my skirt to rise slightly.

Michael approached me and asked for my drink order.

"Whiskey, neat," I said with great confidence, and then I yelled over the music, "No, wait. I hate whiskey; give me a gin and tonic, please."

He laughed and moved down the bar to fix my drink so the skip wouldn't see him fill the rocks glass with only tonic. He set it down in front of me and asked if I needed anything else.

I shook my head, but added, "Not yet, but I have a feeling this may be a long night, so don't go too far."

Michael threw a towel over his shoulder and promised to keep an eye on me. I knew he meant that as more than just to be sure my glass was full.

Thomas Benton was sitting next to me and seemed to be amused at my behavior so far. "Are you drinking to forget or to punish?" he asked, pointing to my glass.

I looked at him and let my eyes linger on him a little longer than I usually would, so it would seem like I was checking him out. I acted like I was about to say something seductive, and then slumped a little against the bar and pretended to confess, "Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing."

"I figured that much out," he replied smoothly.

"How?" I asked, picking up my drink to let him see me take a long sip.

"You ordered a drink you didn't like, and then begged the bartender not to leave. It's obviously whatever you're doing, you don't have much experience at it," he said, using what I think he believed was his assuring voice.

"Can I confess something to you?" I asked, as though I was buying his good guy routine. "I've never done anything like this before," I admitted as I uncrossed my legs so I could cross them in pointing in his direction, allowing my skirt to move up a little more.

"What did you want to do?" he asked, his eyes at the place where my skirt met my bare thigh.

"My boyfriend broke up with me this morning before I left for work. I came downstairs ready to get Friday over with so I could have a relaxing weekend, and he was sitting at my kitchen table to announce that he was leaving. When I asked what was wrong, he said I was too uptight and he needed somebody that had more edge to them. I brewed over that comment all day, and by dinner, I decided that he was a jerk and that I had plenty of edge he just didn't know how to bring it out. So I got dressed up and decided to come to the bar and keep drinking until I worked up the courage to approach a complete stranger and try to have sex with them."

His eyes got big as I said the last line, as though he would be more than happy to help me out with my plan for the evening. I adjusted my bag, which had been hanging over my shoulder, so it sat in my lap. I saw Thomas' eyes focus on it, as well.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" His concern might have been more believable if he hadn't been splitting his focus between my breasts and my pocketbook.

"Yes," I said emphatically, before softening it to say, "Well, I'd love to do it, but honestly, he was probably right. I don't have the backbone to go up to a stranger and invite them to my place for sex."

He smirked, and then held his hand out to shake mine. "My name is Thomas Benton."

I accepted his hand and replied, "I'm Tiffany."

"There. Now we aren't strangers," he said, helping me with my first issue. "And I don't suggest you take a stranger back to your house for sex. I think a hotel is probably a better option, so they don't know where you live and you don't have to worry about your safety."

I rolled my eyes. "See, I never thought about that. All I could think about was the sex. You know, after I got over the insult of being dumped and really thought about it, I think breaking up is a bit of a relief. I mean, he wasn't all that adventurous in bed, so it might be fun to find somebody willing to try some wilder stuff."

"Wait... He told you that you didn't have edge, but you were bored with him in bed?" Tomas seemed confused, and I knew this was my chance to hook him and give the guys in Boston their own 'group sex' quote to mull over.

"Yeah, I mean, sure, we did it in different positions, and he never complained when I invited one of my girlfriends to join, but there has to be more than threesomes, oral, anal, and traditional sex, right?" I smiled when he briefly choked on his Sam Adams.

Once he was under control again, I added, "What's wrong with a little leather, or pretending to be different people? I mean, is it wrong to want somebody to use props and—" I glanced around like I was afraid I'd be over heard, "—and do it so hard that you both practically black out from exhaustion? I want to sleep like the dead after sex because I absolutely have no ability to move. But I've never experienced that."

"Tiffany," he said, putting a hand on my knee and watching for a reaction as he slid it up my thigh to the edge of my dress. I let him go higher than usual, and then his eyes got bigger and he asked, "Are you wearing the world's tiniest thong, or…"

The question was just hanging out there, so I said, "I told you I was trying to live on the edge."

In truth, the angle I was sitting had caused the thong to ride a little higher than usual, and if he'd continued to move north, he would have found the lace. I just didn't feel the need to point that out.

He swallowed hard and pulled his hand back to a more respectable place. "I think I can help you. If you still want to walk on the wild side, I promise not to leave you until you are so exhausted, you can't stay awake. And anything you want to try, I'll be glad to play along."

I took the last swallow of my drink and set it down hard on the bar. I made no attempt to be discrete as I pulled my wallet out and set down my black American Express card to pay for my drink.

Benton's hand tightened up on my leg as he saw the limitless credit card with no name on the front. "Here, these can be on me," he insisted, throwing down some cash and handing the card back to me to put away.

"I can't believe I ran into you tonight. You are exactly what I needed," I assured him.

He stood up and offered me his hand. I ignored his offer, not wanting him to have a way to hold onto me, but there was nothing I could do to keep him from throwing his arm around me when I stood up. It was like he knew I was going to be an easy woman to take advantage of and steal from, so he wanted to be sure I didn't get away.

"I'm parked out back," he announced, guiding us to the door where I knew the guys were waiting.

"So am I," I said, smiling as though it were another wonderful coincidence.

I didn't like being held beside him, but I let him lead me to the door, and then stepped ahead when he reached out to open it.

As soon as I cleared the doorway, Scar stepped forward, grabbed Benton's hand, and announced, "Thomas Benton, you are in violation of your bond agreement, and I'm here to return you to police custody."

Benton fought it, but between Scar and the guy assigned to work with him, there was nothing he could do to get away.

I backed up, as though I was completely shocked to see the guy I'd been about to leave with in handcuffs. He looked at me and just shook his head. I wasn't sure if he was more disappointed at being taken to jail or missing out on a night of wild edgy sex before robbing me blind.

They easily loaded him into a waiting SUV and sped off to the nearest station to return him to the system.

The guys slowly filed out of the bar and formed a circle around me. I looked around and didn't see Rodriguez, which was disappointing. I felt like it went so smoothly because of what he'd said right before, and I wanted to thank him for his help.

As expected, I got a few comments about my performance. Needle was especially disappointed to hear that I was no longer in need of getting in touch with my wild side. After turning down other options, including one from Red that nearly made me gag, the fun began to die down and Angel announced we were done and dismissed us all.

I turned to head to the Explorer I'd ridden in, and as I stepped away from the guys, the inevitable let down from the adrenaline hit me, and I missed Ranger more than ever. He always held me against him as that first wave of shakes worked their way through me, while helping me to disassociate myself from whatever persona I'd taken on to get the job done. After that was over, he took me home to begin my own personal ritual of getting the skip cooties off of me from the touching I'd had to endure.

I wasn't paying attention, so when a hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, I nearly screamed. But when I was pulled to a hard, warm chest and realized it belonged to Rodriguez, I relaxed and let him put his arms around me and hold me close. It was different than being held by Ranger, because I'd been in his arms so often, it was like sitting in your favorite couch and knowing just how to position yourself for maximum comfort.

Still, I couldn't help but notice, despite his awkwardness in talking to me this week, he didn't seem to have any problem holding me tightly to him, so I let go and let the adrenaline crash happen, trusting he wouldn't let go until I was through the worst of the shakes.

Once I began to settle, he leaned down to speak in my ear so that neither the guys nor the wire would pick it up. "Did something happen?" I didn't need to see his face to know he was worried.

"It's always like this after when it goes okay," I assured him, happy that I got it all out easily.

"What's it like when it goes FUBAR?" he wondered aloud.

I shrugged. "It depends on what went wrong," I told him, finding the ability to pull myself together. "Sometimes the adrenaline isn't as bad because I had a bit of a struggle to burn it off, but sometimes, it's worse."

"How are you now?" he asked, looking down at my eyes, as though he could read the truth there.

"I need to get out of this dress, shower to scrub off the skip cooties where he touched me, and then a few hours of vegging out in front of the television with some ice cream would fix me up good as new," I told him honestly. If I'd learned anything useful from Grandma Mazur, it was to not be afraid to ask for what you really want, because there is no way you'll get it if you don't ask.

He nodded once. "Ready to roll?" He loosened his grip on me, but waited to let go until I was ready.

I stepped away, and he opened my door so I could get into the Explorer for the ride back to the office. A couple of blocks from the bar, he tapped on the headrest of Angel's seat and asked him to stop at the convenience store ahead. Making a quick in and out trip alone, Rodriguez climbed into the truck once more and set a bag on the seat between us. He pushed it over to me when the Explorer began moving once more.

I looked at him, questioning what it was. He said nothing to explain, but the cold that touched my leg when he gave the bag one final push to me told me he'd gotten something from the freezer case.

I opened the bag and looked in to find eight pints of Ben and Jerry's. I looked up at his uncertain face and said, "I said eat _some_ ice cream, not an entire dairy."

"Didn't know what you liked, so I got one of everything," he admitted.

I moved the containers around and came up with Half Baked and Chubby Hubby. "You can't go wrong with these."

There wasn't a reply, but I did see him carefully look at both the labels. He reached out like he was going to take the other six away, but I grabbed the bag and pulled it into my lap.

"I was just going to take the ones you didn't want," he explained defensively.

"No need to be hasty," I told him with a smile. "Just because I don't need them tonight doesn't mean I don't want them eventually. We aren't leaving tomorrow. There's still plenty of time for me to draft these guys into service."

He looked away, but I could still see the profile of his face, and from the side, it certainly looked like he was fighting a smile.


	9. Distraction Domination

_I am having a great time playing in Janet's creation below. _

_Jen (JenRar), your skills and patience as a beta is remarkable. Thank you for working with me._

**Chapter 9 – Distraction Domination**

"Here are two files that would make easy in and out distractions. Pick one, and we'll work up the briefing for the team for tonight when they bring in the new hire to observe you in action," Rodriguez instructed, back to his all business persona that I really didn't want to see this morning.

This two steps forward and one step back routine was getting old fast. After he'd taken care of me last night while I'd wound down from the distraction, I'd hoped that would mean he was opening up a little. He'd carried the bag laden with Ben and Jerry's for me and stayed as close as possible without out bodies touching until I walked in the apartment I was using for our stay.

He'd put the ice cream in the freezer and looked around, as though verifying everything was secured, and then asked if I needed anything else. I'd almost asked if he wanted to stay and watch a movie from Scar's collection, but I'd had a nagging feeling that might be too much for him, so I'd told him I was fine, and he'd turned and walked out.

Seeing him this morning, I was hoping for that expression of concern that he'd left with last night, but all I could see now was Mr. Business.

"You pick," I told him without glancing up. "I'm sure either will be fine."

He was comparing both files as the guys came in, along with a woman I assumed was going to be their go-to distraction person. Angel made the introductions to Stacey and made it clear to her that she was just to observe today. Tomorrow, she and I would have time together to talk about the role and prepare her for a trial run that evening.

She was a knock out, so I figured this job would be simple for her. Her body was model perfect, with a chest at least twice my size. Not only would that feature alone catch the eye of most of the skips, but she wouldn't struggle to have a place to hide the microphone. If anything, I started to worry if the shear size of those things might mute the sound so much, they wouldn't be able to pick up the dialogue.

I shook my head to clear those thoughts. The last thing I wanted to do was accidently make a comment about another woman's breasts. Her long, straight, blonde hair and mile high legs would be helpful, too, since any outfit would fit her perfectly. If the reaction of the men around the table was anything to go by, these jobs with RangeMan were going to be easy money for her.

I glanced over at Rodriguez and was pleased that he didn't seem to notice her. It shouldn't be a big deal, and it definitely shouldn't matter to me, but I liked the fact that she wasn't turning his head.

He caught my eye as we did our version of ESP to decide who was going to talk first. When he crossed his arms, I knew that was his way of saying he was all right with the silence and didn't feel the need to say a thing. I had nothing on tonight's operation, so I had to go back to last night's fun to break the stalemate.

"Was last night what you expected?" I asked, looking at the guys.

Needle had a huge grin on his face as he spoke up. "Hell no. It was a lot more fun than I'd thought it would be. You're hilarious!"

I guess I should have known they wouldn't let me live down my comments about wanting more from my sexual partner.

"Other than my attempt to bait the skip, was everything what you thought it would be?" I pushed, hoping they'd take the hint that I wasn't looking to relive my performance.

Angel spoke up next. "The outfit – is there a standard thing you wear, or does it change every time?"

"I repeat some outfits, but I try to cater to what the skip is known for or what story I'm thinking of throwing at him when I get his attention. But the majority of what I wear is definitely in the category of low cut, tight fitting, and short," I explained, trying to hold back the shiver at Red's grin at my description. As much as I'd grown to like the team in Boston, I wasn't going to miss that guy when we left.

We went over the coverage plan we'd used and the various roles everyone had played. After an hour long debrief, we finally moved on to the new file in front of us. I looked to Rodriguez and bit the inside of my cheek when he glared at me like he wasn't happy that I was forcing him to speak. I don't know why, but I got the feeling he was joking, and if that were true, then maybe we weren't back to square one like I'd assumed we were.

He had come prepared with copies of the background check we'd run and his takedown plan. When I saw who he'd picked, I could feel the red on my face already creeping into place. Of all the cases he wanted me to pull, he had to choose this one to have an audience.

"Roger Whitaker, wanted for armed robbery with a tendency to run anytime the cops come to arrest him, made bail, and then skipped. According to his history, he will turn up at McCully's Bar tonight and has a thing for dominating women in leather." Rodriguez sat down and looked at me, as though daring me to ask for a reprieve.

I tried to talk under my breath so no one else would pick up on my comment while they looked at the file. "You couldn't have set this one up for a Wednesday afternoon pick up at his sister's house, could you?"

His face stayed blank, but his eyes were definitely lighting up with amusement.

I decided to try and get in one more dig before addressing the guys. "Fine, but I have nothing to wear that's appropriate, so you have to take me shopping."

I didn't wait for a response before saying to the group, "You guys know the bar better than us. What do we need to secure it?"

They talked through staffing scenarios and finally came up with a guy I didn't know at the door, Scar floating inside, Needle and Michael doing the take down, and Red behind the bar. Angel was going to be there, but would hold back outside, and Stacey would be inside with an earpiece to listen in and observe.

"What time?" Angel asked for suggestions.

Rodriguez suggested 2300.

"Why so late?" the boss wondered.

"Whitaker works third shift, so even though he goes out on Saturday, he's not used to being really active until then. He'll be a lot more receptive if we go in on his timetable," I explained, seeing Rodriguez give a head nod of agreement.

"All right, then you've got all day to transform yourself in a dominatrix," Needle prompted as the meeting closed at lunchtime. "Call me if you need any help," he called out with a wink.

He reminded me so much of Lester that I couldn't stop myself from replying, "You have pointers on what you look for in a dominat? I'd love some intel on the submissive mind, if you have time to share from your own experience."

The guys started ribbing the Boston medic on my comment that he would pull sub duty in a pairing, and I slipped out quickly before he had a chance to come up with a suitable comeback.

I was almost to the elevator, when a hand caught my elbow, causing me to jerk back into a very surprised Rodriguez. "What?" I asked, wondering why he was pushing me to the stairs.

"I believe you said I had to help you shop," he finally said as we approached a standard issue black SUV.

"Where'd you get the keys?" I asked, getting a smirk in return. Honestly, these guys with their super sneaky methods always seemed to think it was beneath them to admit how they did things.

We drove in silence for a while, until I couldn't stand it anymore and asked, "How do you know your way around Boston?" The city confused me beyond all reason with all the tunnels and bridges constantly covered with insane amounts of fast moving traffic and rudely honking horns.

He shrugged and eventually responded, "Spent a lot of time setting up the office here, and once I've been somewhere, I don't usually forget."

"How is that you know where to go to get me dressed for this particular skip?" I teased.

I wasn't prepared for him to say, "Everything in my closet isn't RangeMan issued."

I would have pushed for more details, but he was sporting a very satisfied looking smile, and I hated to ruin his moment.

When the truck stopped in front of a rather bland looking clothing store, I thought I might be in trouble. A sweet looking middle aged woman came over and offered her assistance.

Rodriguez nodded to the back and said, "We need to get her outfitted."

The woman looked back in the direction of his nod, and then stepped to the side and asked, "Lace?"

With a grin in my direction, he shook his head no and replied, "No, leather."

She invited us to follow her, and I thrust my elbow into his ribs for good measure.

"You are so explaining all that when we get back to the truck." Despite really wanting to, I didn't allow myself to look back at his expression.

We spent the next two hours trying on clothes, before I ended up with a pair of pants that made my rear end look amazing and a vest that didn't quite meet the top of the pants. I was told no shirt was necessary, which meant I was going to need a special bra and panty set.

Then I heard the most wonderful words ever spoken by a man. "Now we need to look at shoes, because she'll need the right ones to make this outfit."

He must have nixed half a dozen options, before picking up a pair of boots and saying, "Here. Put these on with the rest of the outfit."

I wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but I couldn't get over the fact that I was having fun shopping with a guy most of the men back home thought was just one stressful day away from a total meltdown. I tried not to dwell on why he was so good at weeding out good options from bad ones, or I would have to question him about his sexual preferences. While I thought we were getting along much better than I would have guessed a week ago, I still didn't want to ask about his sex life.

I slipped on the pointy toe boots with the four inch stilettos, and then tucked the bottom of the fitted pants in and zipped them up to my knee. They had some stretch to them, which made them fit like a glove. When I stood up and looked at myself in the dressing room, I was shocked. I looked hot.

I swept the curtain to the dressing room open and left my hand up and on the wall for effect. I watched him give me a slow once over, before he asked me to walk over to him. I pulled my hand from the wall and put it on my hip, giving myself a little more swing that I would usually attempt without something to steady myself with.

I stopped so close to him, I could smell his cologne on every breath. He swallowed, and I tried to keep from grinning at how much fun it was to play with him.

What I didn't expect was him to point to a case and say, "You're going to need a few props to make this work."

I glanced down and saw all kinds of bondage implements, blanching at the fact that I had no clue what most of them were for. "You want me to wear a collar?" I asked, a catch in my voice on the last word.

"No, Stephanie, you're the Dom. There is absolutely no way you would wear a collar, but you might want to have one on you, as though you're looking for someone to fill it," he instructed dryly, as though he were explaining how to change the oil in my car.

"How would they know?" I asked, strangely intrigued.

He grinned. "You'll just have to trust me on this one."

Then he proceeded to have the lady pull out a riding crop, which he attached to a little hook on the pants I hadn't noticed. From that spot, it would swing when I walked, which would only draw more attention to it.

She offered handcuffs, which he declined, but he did accept the large size collar, which he twisted twice and transformed into a bracelet for my arm. He pointed to a smaller leather ring and a purse, which she handed to him. He snapped the band around the bag so that it was visible where the arm strap met the purse, and then hung it over my shoulder so that it crossed my chest and rested on the opposite hip as the crop.

It was unnerving to be looked at so critically by my partner, but I stood there and took it. Finally, I got tired of being under the microscope. I took a step forward to get in his personal space and said, "Either make a suggestion or step off, but I've had enough being inspected."

That got me the first full wattage smile I'd ever seen on his face. "She's ready," he announced, handing his credit card to the clerk, who was happily ringing up the sale.

"I'm going to need a trip to the mall to get the final pieces of the outfit," I told him, before going back to the changing room to slip out of the leather and back into my jeans and polo shirt.

When I came back out, the lady helping us took everything to put it in bags, while Rodriguez asked, "What else do you need?"

"A trip to Victoria Secret, for one," I replied, loving the rush of power I felt when he blushed, and then nodded, resigning himself that it was probably necessary.

Somehow, he managed to dodge all my questions on the way to the mall, and he refused to come into the store with me, saying he'd be on the bench when I was finished. I wasn't sure where the confident guy went that had just dressed me in leather, but I was sorry he wasn't as comfortable in here. It could have been a lot of fun to apply some pressure by picking up possible thongs to see which he thought would work best.

"You are frustratingly quiet," I admitted on the ride back to the office.

"Just living up to my reputation," he replied.

"You don't have to assume the reputation, you know," I instructed. "I mean, I haven't blown anything up since we left Trenton, despite what people probably told you would happen."

He nodded, as though I'd made a point.

When he turned off the truck and put his hand on the door to get out, I stopped him by reaching across the console. "Are you going to tell me how you knew about that store and what things to pick for my outfit?"

He looked at my hand on his arm, and then back up to meet my eyes. "I haven't always been a closed up tight ass."

"Will you at least answer one question for me?" I pushed, knowing he didn't want to talk about himself anymore.

"Maybe," he replied, not willing to commit himself until he knew what I was going to ask.

"What was the little ring for that you snapped on my purse?" I asked.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next. He lifted his hand to partially cover his mouth, but it didn't get there in time to stop the laughter that came out. I let him enjoy his chuckle, since it was obvious he didn't allow himself to laugh often.

"Oh, Stephanie, we're going to have to spend a little time getting you ready for tonight."

I didn't want to state the obvious after asking him a question that seemed to amuse him so much, but I still felt the need to point out, "I may not know much about all the stuff in that store, but I know how to get ready for a distraction."

He shook his head, as though I missed the point. "The cock ring is on your purse as a sign that whoever you pick up will be expected to wear that as well as the collar that will be on your wrist. Those two things together will make it obvious that you'll be calling all the shots. If we're right about what Whittaker is after, he'll come to you, but you'll need a little prep about what you need to say or do to draw him in. With the right attitude, this should be the easiest distraction you've ever done."

I let go of his arm, still mulling over everything he said. We walked down to my apartment, each of us carrying a bag. After setting everything down, he said, "I'll come back over about 2200, and we can go over how you need to approach tonight. I think with a few pointers about typical dominat behavior, you'll be fine."

"I'm going to hold you to that," I said, completely unsure about this whole thing.

"I promise, you'll be fine. I'm not letting you out of my sight, and no one will get to you with me there," he replied in such a confident tone, I had no choice but to accept it as fact.

After locking my door, as though it could really keep anyone from RangeMan out, I glanced at the clock and saw I had three hours before I had to get ready. I picked up my phone and hit my number one speed dial.

"Yo," came Ranger's steady voice.

"What in the hell is a cock ring?" I jumped in, assuming he already knew it was me.

I had to wait for an answer as he burst into laughter at my question. I heard some voices in the background, and then a slightly more composed Ranger came back on the line. "Why do you ask?"

I gave him the run down of the distraction tonight and had to wait until he pulled himself together once again.

"You never disappoint, Babe."

"This isn't funny. Rodriguez seems to think I can go into this bar and pull this man out by his balls. I have no idea how to do this," I confessed, glad he wasn't in front of me to see how embarrassing this whole thing really was.

We spent the next half hour talking about how Rodriguez and I were getting along, including the limited banter while we shopped. Ranger was relieved to hear that he was opening up to me and thanked me for everything I was doing.

"I'm not doing anything, and before you get excited and read more into this than what's there, he still barely talks to me, and every morning, it's like I have to remind him that I'm not the enemy," I confessed, sounding as frustrated as I felt.

"I saw the tape from the gym," Ranger interrupted to say.

Damn, I kept forgetting everything that's said or done in this building was being filed away. "Yeah, I think he was blaming himself for the rough distractions I've been through," I gave as a weak overview of what had passed between us.

"I think if that's all you believe happened that day, you need a copy of the tape, as well. He's in a better place because of your acceptance of him, and if you came home tomorrow, I have no doubt we'd all see a change in him. We've all seen it, and we couldn't be more proud of you."

Thankfully, I hadn't put on any makeup yet, because the tears Ranger's words caused would have ruined it.

We talked for the next thirty minutes, before the conversation began to wind down and I assumed we were saying goodbye.

"It goes around the bottom of a guy's penis to keep him from coming easily," Ranger seemed to blurt out of left field.

"What?" I asked, completely uncertain as to what he was talking about and a little unsure as to whether or not I wanted to know.

"The cock ring – the reason you called," he clarified. "It introduces some pain and restricts the blood flow so that you could mercilessly tease the poor sap wearing it, but unless you pull the snap and take it off, he isn't coming without your permission."

"It sounds horrible," I replied, not sure I wanted to be seen with one of those on my purse.

"In one respect, it is, but when it comes off, it's…mind-blowing," he said in a gravely sexed up voice that spoke of personal experience with this particular torture device.

"Goodnight, Ranger," I said, with an image in my head of him wearing one.

"Good luck, Babe," he replied before hanging up.

I looked at the leather strap with just a snap closure to hold it in place and thought how harmless it looked. But knowing what it was capable of and designed for made me a little uncomfortable.

I glanced at my watch and realized my conversation had once again taken much longer than I'd thought, so I rushed through a shower and used some of Mr. Alexander's magic gel to partially tame my curls. I was hoping slightly wild hair might make me seem more likely to be into this whole routine.

I was standing in the bathroom in just my black bra and panty set, a robe over it, finishing the smoky highlights around my eyes. I refused to go Goth with black nail polish, so I'd gone bright red, instead, and hoped Rodriguez didn't have anything to say about it.

I heard a knock at the door and double checked the belt at my waist, before opened up to a nervous looking Rodriguez.

He looked at my face, dropped his eyes to my hands, and then glanced over to the outfit spread out on the sofa before nodding. "Perfect."

At least I'd passed the initial test. He stepped in as I opened the door completely, and then sat on the chair beside the sofa and said, "I think I can help make this night a little easier on you."

Hearing those words went a long way to calm me down, so I sat on the couch and tucked my legs under me to listen to his suggestions. By the time he was done talking, I was convinced I was the wrong person to try and pull this off.

He must have seen the panic in my eyes, because he added, "You can do this. It's no different than the other characters you've played to lure out other skips. And if you feel like it isn't working, you can pull the plug at any time and we can still get him at his sister's house."

I thought about it for a moment, and finally decided he was right. I didn't like backing down from a challenge, and just because this was foreign to me didn't mean I couldn't do it.

I thanked him and promised to meet everyone in the garage in an hour. He stood up to leave, and then turned back with his hand held out.

I took the wire from him, grateful to be able to put it on as I got dressed for once, and then shut the door behind him. I needed to try to lock down my Catholic upbringing in order to get in touch with the adventurous side of my personality. Otherwise, I would never be able to pull this off.

With five minutes to spare, I zipped up my boots, put the crop and purse on like I'd had them in the store, grabbed my smallest stun gun to slip into my bag, and headed downstairs to see if I could pull off this challenge.

I took the elevator, figuring most of the guys would walk down the stairs instead. When the doors dinged, announcing my arrival, I tried to pull myself into character and loosened my hips to get the maximum effect of the shiny leather covering them.

When I stopped in front of the guys, you could have heard a pin drop. Stacey's eyebrows had completely disappeared under her bangs, Angel seemed to not notice the fact that all the papers in his folder had hit the ground, and Scar was biting his bottom lip between his teeth hard enough that I was afraid he was going to hurt himself. I walked straight up to Rodriguez with the collar in my hands, unable to make it work, and decided to have a little fun.

I held it out on the tip of my index finger and said, "You need to put this on." I let that hang out there for a few seconds before adding, "...my wrist."

He took the leather, twisted it as he had in the store, and then snapped it around my arm, giving the appearance it was just a simple black bracelet if someone didn't know any better.

"Is that acceptable?" he asked with great amusement.

I looked down at my wrist, and then back up to him before replying. "You'd better hope so."

"Dear God in heaven," Michael said behind me.

His words seemed to pull everyone else out of their stupor. I was used to a few comments and whistles when I got all fixed up for these operations, but I had to admit, this was hands down the best reaction an outfit had ever gotten from my co-workers.

Rodriguez opened my door for me, and as I slid in, he said quietly, "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

I touched the underside of his chin with my finger and said, "Never." Then, just for the fun of it, I added, "I have to admit I'm feeling the outfit and the attitude, though. I think I could get into doing it again for the right reason."

I watched his eyes drop down to my boots and slowly make their way back up to my face.

His voice dropped to a husky purr, "It'd be a damn shame not to."


	10. Showtime

_I am shamelessly using the world created by JE for my own fun._

_Jen (JenRar) you are an amazing beta and I am so lucky to have your help on this story._

**Chapter 10 - Showtime**

You'd think by now I'd be used to the feeling of having my every embarrassing moment being observed by a team of people who will then break it down and discuss it at length over drinks and in staff meetings for weeks to come. For some reason, knowing that would happen was only increasing the size of the butterflies current trying to get airborne in my stomach.

I passed by the RangeMan plant at the door with just a nod, and then made my way through the crowd to the bar, where there were some empty stools near the skip. He was to my right, which was the side with the crop on it, and I watched him look at my outfit with appreciation, but when his eyes hit that little toy, they absolutely doubled in size. I eased up on the stool and waited for Red to come over for my drink order.

"Rum and coke with a lime and a straw," I requested, trying to remember how Rodriguez said I should be very particular, as though I expected my every instruction to be followed.

Whittaker slid over one seat so that we were side by side and said, "Can I buy you that drink?"

I glanced at him, trying to seem uninterested while giving him a top to bottom look. "If I wanted you to purchase my drink, I'd have told you so," I replied, before turning back to look at the other patrons in the mirror.

"You're used to being in charge?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"If you have to ask, then you have no idea what I'm used to," I responded without so much as a glance.

"I think I understand," he assured me eagerly.

Red set my drink down, with the lime on the edge, but there was no straw.

When he asked if he could get me anything else, I replied, "Yes, you can get me what I ordered."

We stared at each other for a few tense seconds, before he eventually caved, pulled a straw out from under the bar, and put it in my glass with a smirk. "Happy now?"

"Yes," I replied tersely. "I'm glad you decided to give in to what I wanted."

He disappeared to handle other patron's orders and left me to the skip and my drink. I pushed the ice around with the short straw, before taking a swallow. The first thing I noticed was that there was definitely rum in my drink. Not only was there alcohol, but if anything, it was like he nearly forgot to put the coke in. I had never had this drink made so strongly before. My eyes started to burn, and I had to clear my throat to keep from coughing. Red knew his whole purpose in being planted there was to make me virgin drinks. How difficult was it to do his job, especially after making such a big deal about why we needed a RangeMan plant for a bartender?

I put the glass down, knowing I couldn't drink any more, which was a shame, because it might take a while to get the skip to follow me out.

I spun around on my stool so that my back was against the bar and I could look out over the dance floor. It also gave Whittaker a chance to see my wrist with the collar and my purse with the cock ring hanging off of it.

I could feel his eyes on me and knew I needed to wait for him to approach me so that I could assert my position of power again.

Finally, he spoke up, but his voice was more hesitant. "Would you like to dance?"

I looked at him and just stared for a while. "You're new to this, aren't you?"

"New to what?" he asked quickly.

I tapped the collar on my arm impatiently. "I was hoping there would be someone suitable here, but I don't think this is the right kind of place for what I'm looking for tonight."

"What are you looking for?" He jumped like a new puppy hoping for a bone to be thrown his way.

I unsnapped the collar from my arm, straightened it, and then snapped it back into a single circle so that it was obvious what it was. I ran it between my thumb and index finger, taking my time to respond. I needed to be the one controlling this conversation.

Finally, I said, "I was looking for someone who understood what this meant and knew the thrill of submitting in every possible way."

I refused to break eye contact, knowing I had him if he looked down. It only took three seconds before his head bent and he replied, "I've worn a collar like that."

I ran my hand through his hair to assert some authority and thought it felt slightly greasy. Before I got lost in the thought of how long it had been since he washed his unkempt mop, I said, "But is that who you really are? I'm not looking for someone who is just experimenting; I want somebody who _needs_ this."

I stopped the contact and waited for his response.

"I was a sub for a long time, but finding the right Dom isn't easy. I'm a big guy, and people assume that means I just want violence."

Thank goodness Rodriguez had explained the whole Dominant/submissive relationship, or I would have totally blown this conversation. "You are big, and that opens up a world of possibilities…but you're right, it's about trust. It's about you giving up the control so that you can just feel and do without having to lead."

I watched him shiver at my words, and I began to feel guilty for leading him down this path. He was going to end up in handcuffs at the end of this conversation, but not for the reason he might think.

He waited without saying another word, and I had to admire his ability to wait for instruction. "My drink is going to waste," I said out of the blue, knowing I couldn't drink any more since it was so strong.

He continued to sit on his stool with his hands clasped between his open thighs and his head down slightly.

"Finish that drink while you think through whether or not this is what you really want. If you decide it is—" I set the collar down on the bar beside my glass, "—then you know what to do."

He stayed still long enough that I began to panic I had done something wrong. But he slowly moved around and picked up my drink, draining the glass in several fast gulps. The glass hit the bar hard when he was finished, and he picked up the band of leather I'd placed there. He ran his fingers over the black material, as though he was truly taking his time to consider my offer. I realized I had spent years judging people whose sexual preferences were different than mine, but seeing how much this meant to him made me realize there was a lot more to this type of relationship than whips and chains.

Whittaker snapped the collar around his neck and stretched his head from side to side, as though testing the feel of it. I knew I couldn't just tell him we were leaving, or he would bolt. I had to build up some level of trust according to Rodriguez, so I leaned in to say, "We're going to dance now so we can see how this fits us both."

His shoulders relaxed, which surprised me. I figured he'd tense up as I started handing out orders, but apparently, he needed this. My take on the world obviously needed to be broadened past the 'Burg upbringing I used to view it.

I walked to the dance floor and turned to see him standing in front of me, hesitating. I didn't realize I was going to have to dictate everything little thing. "Put your hands on my hips."

His obedience was immediate. As creepy as it was to have a stranger's hands on me, somehow calling the shots of what he touched made it less sickening. "Now relax and dance," I instructed, hoping the guy could do that, because I was not capable of calling out dance moves.

He wasn't the best dancer I'd ever been partnered with, but he was far from the worst, as well. There was a timidity there that could have been endearing on the right person.

I waited until the song ended, and then leaned in to speak directly into his ear. "I've decided I want to take you with me tonight. You listen very well, and I'm convinced we could have a very satisfying evening," I purred.

Then I added, "You will follow me out, staying close, but not touching me. This isn't about violence, but don't think for a minute that I would hesitate to punish you severely for disobeying one of my commands."

I had to hope he was hooked, because my instructions for the character I was trying to play were exhausted and I had nothing more to add. I turned and walked away, keeping my steps measured, but not delaying as though I thought he might back out. It took all the control I had to keep walking and not turn around to double check he was following me.

It wasn't until I stepped outside and heard Needle say, "Roger Whittaker, you are in violation of your bond agreement, and we're here to take you in," that I knew he was behind me.

I spun around and watched his head jerk up in surprise as the guys easily got the cuffs on him. He looked over to me, probably trying to figure out if I was a part of the team hauling him back to jail. Fortunately, the look on his face was one of regret, and I felt so guilty for leading him on that he didn't suspect me as being associated with the guys.

As they passed by where I was standing, he stopped and spoke to Needle, who reached up to take the collar off and hand it back to me. I knew he definitely didn't need something like that around his neck in jail, so I took it and turned to walk away in the opposite direction.

As soon as the guys got him in the waiting SUV, they were off, so Angel called the remaining team together to talk about what happened. For the most part, everyone was riding high on the success of the evening. I was struggling with a feeling of overwhelming guilt for leading him down the garden path for something I never would have delivered on. I didn't usually feel this way, but I felt like I'd asked him to trust me, and then betrayed that somehow. Strangely, even though I knew he belonged in lock up for the things he'd done, I felt unworthy of the trust he had been so willing to hand over.

I was lost in my thoughts until Angel said my name, asking if I had anything to add.

At first, I said, "No," but then Red walked out, having taken a little longer to get out from behind the bar and join everyone else.

Seeing him reminded me about my drink, and the guilt I had been wallowing in turned into anger, as though somebody flipped a conversion switch of some sort. While I had plenty of reasons to not like the guy, I knew I was taking out my guilt about tonight on him, beyond what was appropriate.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked loud enough that the group around us could easily hear.

He put his hands up like he was surrendering and gave me an indulgent smile, like he was letting me get away with that tone of voice because I was just girl.

If anything, it only fueled me on, "You were there for one reason tonight – to fix me a drink with no liquor in it – and what do you do? You give me a drink that is ninety percent rum with just a splash of coke. If I'd needed extra time to get the skip's attention, I would have been forced to finish that drink, and then I couldn't have pulled off the rest of the distraction."

"You asked for a Run and Coke, and that's what I gave you," he said, as though that were in any way appropriate.

"Were you not in the meeting where we explained the whole reason RangeMan provided a bartender is so that I can order a regular drink, but get one with no booze? You even asked a question about why it was necessary, so I know you heard me say it," I pushed on.

"It was one drink. What's the big deal?" he responded, not appreciating the way I was jumping on him.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. "The big deal?" I repeated. "The big deal is that for these distractions to work, I have to trust you to do your damn job. After that stunt, which I know was intentional, I have no trust in you. Angel can decide how to use you when Stacey takes over, but if I'm involved, you aren't working another distraction on my team."

"Well, it's a good thing I don't report to you, or I might be disappointed," he replied, taking a step closer.

Angel wisely got between us. "But you do report to me, and if Stephanie says you don't work a distraction, then you don't work another one."

That royally pissed Red off. "You're letting this little girl boss you around?"

Angel didn't respond; he just crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine," Red conceded, seeing his boss wasn't going to take his side in this, "but when she's gone, don't come to me wondering why the guys have no respect for you."

Red tried to take a few steps away, but Angel called out, "I'll expect your apartment to be cleared out by the beginning of the week."

"You're firing me over this?" he asked, not able to believe it.

"No, I'm firing you because you refused to carry out an order. In our business, that gets people killed. Tonight, we got lucky, but it could have turned ugly, and you may not care, but I have a bigger team to think about than you. So, you're out of here, effective immediately," Angel told him firmly.

It was the first time I'd seen a glimmer of the fierce fighter in Angel that I knew Ranger had to have seen to have put him in charge of an office. Nobody could hold a candle to the power Ranger exuded, but right now, I wouldn't want to have Angel looking at me with that expression on his face.

"If anybody has a problem with what happened tonight, you can take it up with me in the morning," Angel announced, before walking to the SUV that had brought us to the bar.

It wasn't until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I realized everyone was leaving. I turned to see who had touched me and saw Rodriguez standing there, looking very concerned.

"You okay?"

I nodded, even though it wasn't true, and began to walk to the truck to go back to Congress Street. I needed to get back to my apartment and get out of this outfit. In order to keep it together, I was focused on the collar in my hand, pulling it between my fingers in circles.

No one said a thing in the truck, and when we parked in the garage, I jumped out before the key was out of the ignition. The head start I got on everyone else allowed me to get in the elevator before the guys, so I went up to four by myself. I was beginning to feel the normal shakes my body would go through after a distraction as I tried to get the key in the door.

I heard a set of boots step quickly out of the stairwell and come straight over to me. I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths, willing my body to control itself just long enough to get away from whoever was approaching so that I didn't humiliate myself.

A warm set of hands took the keys from my grip and put them easily in the lock of my door, opening it so that I could walk in. I yanked the crop off my hip and threw it and the purse onto the bar hard enough that they skidded over and fell off the opposite side to the floor. The collar, I kept firmly in my left hand.

I don't remember a distraction ever getting to me this way. I felt like I'd betrayed the skip, which was ridiculous, and it was just further pounded in by the way Red was willing to sacrifice me, breaking whatever trust I had in the team here. It was as if karma had decided to teach me a lesson none too subtly.

I walked over and plopped on the couch, not sure what I should do next. Usually, I ran to the shower, desperate to feel clean, but that burn wasn't there for some reason.

It wasn't until the cushion next to me dipped down that I remembered someone was in my apartment with me.

"You were perfect tonight," Rodriguez spoke quietly to break the silence of the room.

"Thanks for your help," I replied politely, not wanting to make idle chat tonight, despite that being my usual tendency.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he continued, switching tactics.

I shut my eyes and leaned my head against the rest behind me.

I felt him try to pull the collar away from my hands, but I didn't want to let it go, so I tightened my grip.

"No," he spoke firmly, using his hands to pull my fingers away. "You have to let this go."

As he pulled the collar away, I knew he was talking about more than the leather band. I needed to let the guilt go, as well.

"It's…" There were no words in my head to finish that sentence. Figuring Rodriguez already thought I was an idiot, my editor turned off and the thoughts just spilled out without much organization or filter. "It's like I betrayed him by hooking him on trusting me and then leading him out to be arrested."

"It's no different than any of the other guys you bring out," he tried to disagree.

"But it is. They're following me out of lust," I started before Rodriguez spoke over me.

"And so was he. Don't think for a minute he would have put this around his neck if he didn't want you sexually. The whole Dom/sub dynamic is a different approach to sex, but it's still sex. How they express their preferences is just different, but he followed you for the exact same reasons as the other creeps you lure out in Trenton. It took a different attitude and a different outfit, but it was the same thing," he argued.

I couldn't agree, despite really wanting to. "But the look on his face…he gave me back the collar…he had no idea that I was the reason he was going to jail."

"Which is a good thing, or you could be in some serious danger right now," Rodriguez added. "Look, he was disappointed, clear and simple, and he gave you the collar out of self-preservation, because wearing something like that to lockdown might insure he couldn't sit down for the next few days without a lot of discomfort. You played a role, and he played one, too. If you two had been hooking up for real, after it was all over, you would have gone one way and he would have gone the other, and that would have been that, so don't beat yourself up over this."

I listened and tried very hard to believe him, but the skip's expression wouldn't leave me alone when my eyes closed. We sat in silence, until I heard someone at the door.

"You expecting someone?" Rodriguez asked, stiffening up and pulling a hardened face unlike anything I'd seen on him before.

I shook my head no, and Rodriguez was up, standing to the right of the door, tightening and loosening his fists with a light bounce to his feet. I'd seen Lester like this right before attacking when he sparred with Ranger. Neither of us had turned on any lights when we came in, so except for the little light under the mounted microwave, the apartment was dark.

With no warning, Rodriguez gripped the handle of the door and swung it open, revealing a very surprised looking Scar.

He raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat and said, "Boss sent me over to sit with Stephanie tonight. Red is in the building, clearing out his stuff, and we want to be sure you can have some peace without worrying about him bothering you."

It was a very sweet offer, and of all the guys from Boston, Scar was probably the best choice for the job. But I didn't want him here tonight. "Thanks for the offer," I began.

Rodriguez jumped in before I could get any further in turning Scar away for the evening. "Yeah, man, but I'm here for her, and we're cool."

The two guys had a brief staring contest, as though testing the will of the other to see who was more committed to my safety for the evening.

Eventually, Rodriguez won, because Scar took a step backward and said, "Hit zero for the control room if either of you need something. I doubt he'll try anything, but then, I never thought he'd try to sabotage a takedown, either."

After a few more pleasantries, Rodriguez shut the door and came back over to the couch.

I appreciate you getting him to leave," I told him. "You don't have to stay, either. I'll be fine, and I know babysitting isn't really your thing."

I was curious what he was doing when he dropped his head back on the sofa and ran his hand over his face. "None of this is my thing anymore, but it used to be. I was a part of a team, I had friends that I was close to, girls that I liked."

"Girls?" I asked, focusing on the plural.

His head jerked toward me to look at me, before looking flustered and saying, "Well, one at the time, but you know what I mean. Anyway, when somebody needed me, I could be there for them. I guess I've been away from people long enough that I'm not good at it like I once was, but that doesn't mean that I can't do it – or that I don't want to."

"Why did you pull away from people?" I asked suddenly, not really expecting an answer.

"Long story," he said, before pressing his lips tightly together.

"I'm not sleepy, and we don't have anything else to do," I pointed out. "A long story sounds pretty good to me right now."

He shook his head and said, "I don't know if you're stubborn or just tenacious, but either way, let this go, I'm not opening that up again."

We were both silent for a while, until he added, "And you do have something to do." I must have looked confused enough that he felt the need to explain. "You need to take a cootie removing shower, and then you can veg out in front of the television while eating some of your ice cream storehouse." His eyes danced a little, before he added, "Assuming there's any left."

I pretended to be offended and balled up an awkward fist to punch him in his shoulder with everything I had.

He burst out laughing and rubbed his arm, before his brow furrowed, watching me shake my fist. Reaching out toward my hand, he asked, "Has no one ever taught you how to throw a punch?"

I shrugged. "My family upbringing was to avoid fighting at all costs, so there were no fist making lessons there. The guys all want me to work out, but so far, that hasn't included throwing punches."

"You could break your thumb like that," he said, uncurling my fingers from where I'd wrapped them over my thumb. "Here." He guided my hand back into shape by gently moving each finger. "And don't just hit straight on…swing your arm out and around to your target so you get the full strength of your arm, not just your hand."

"You realize you're giving intel to the enemy here. I'll only be punching you harder from now on," I teased him.

He gave me a half smile. "True, but if Red gets in your way again, now I can relax, knowing that if you decide to teach him a lesson, you won't get hurt in the process."

"Ohhh…" I grinned an evil little smile and said, "I could have used this tonight. When he put that drink down that was so heavy with booze, I was itching to hurt him.

"If he'd pulled that stunt back in Trenton, the guys would have taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget," I remarked, suddenly missing my friends back home.

I felt Rodriguez's shoulders shrug, "Yeah, but you're assuming the guys here won't do the same thing. I have a feeling when he finally gets his stuff out of the building, he might be doing it with a lot more dings and dents than when he moved it in."

We laughed together, and then I sat up. "I'm going to take a shower," I announced, feeling the need to move on to the next thing.

"I'll be here, don't worry," he assured me, and I knew down deep, I was safe.

Taking a few steps away, I stopped to point out, "You know, you're a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for."

He was looking down at his hands to reply, "Yeah, there's this curly haired girl my boss sent me here to keep an eye on, and she has this way of getting under your skin until you're blurting out stuff you normally wouldn't say. I guess she's the reason it's going as well as it is."

"You think it's going well?" I asked, intrigued by what his answer might be.

Rodriguez leaned forward, picked up my magic eight ball from the coffee table in front of him, and shook it up, before holding it level in front of him and laughing. "It is decidedly so."


	11. Visitors

_JE is the creative genius behind the world I am using below._

_Jen (JenRar), I'm so glad proofing a chapter of this story helped with a hard day. As the beta on this story you have helped me out so much and so often, that it's nice to think I returned the favor._

**Chapter 11 - Visitors**

I couldn't believe how nervous I was sitting at a table in a smoky bar, waiting for Stacey to come in and try to lure a skip on her own. We'd spent all afternoon together, and I had shared every piece of advice I could think of, but in the end, I'd told her she would have to learn to trust her instincts and rely on the fact that with her body, most of the guys would be eating out of her hand as soon as they saw her.

Rodriguez and I were sitting together, watching to be sure the team was capable of handling these kinds of operations on their own. I knew Stacey had entered the bar, because most of the male heads turned to see her standing there in a black dress that looked painted on and heels so high I thought she might need to duck to clear the door frame.

The bar wasn't overly crowded, so she moved to a stool near the target for the night, but not directly next to him. She ordered a beer, and I grimaced. There wasn't anything Scar could do behind the bar to make that virgin.

Luckily, he covered for her and asked, "Are you sure you want a beer? You look like you could use something stronger."

She mumbled out an order I couldn't hear through the unit in my ear, and I sat back with my Coke in my hand to watch the show.

For long moments, neither she or the skip said a word. We'd gone over her story this afternoon, and I wasn't sure why she wasn't trying to talk to Scar to get some of it out. He was standing there, waiting for her to take the lead.

A guy came over and sat on the stool next to Stacey's other side, so Scar announced, "I've got to take care of some other people, but you look like you could use someone to talk to. I'll bet one of the guys around here would be more than happy to listen." He said it as though it were a general comment, but when he finished talking, he was pointing to the skip and looking in his direction.

Luckily, our embezzler picked up on the none too subtle hint and looked Stacey's way. When Scar stepped away, he moved over one seat to be directly beside her and said, "You need a friendly ear?"

Stacey began to talk and ran through the story as we'd practiced it. This afternoon, she'd been convincing as an actress, but right now, it was as though she were just rehearsing lines. If something didn't change, and soon, she was going to lose him.

"She's terrible," Rodriguez said, mirroring my own thoughts.

I let my head rest on my hand and did a quick run through of everything we knew about the skip. Finally, I said, "I've got to help her, or this isn't going to work."

"Please do something, I can't stand much more of this," he almost begged, giving me the courage I needed to step up.

I wasn't really dressed for a distraction, I'd put on a black dress of my own, even though it wasn't the skimpiest number in my closet by a long shot. The idea was that I was here with someone, so I didn't need to get the attention of other guys. I used the fifteen feet from our table to the bar to come up with something, hoping it would work, because I didn't have a wire if it went downhill.

I squeezed myself between Stacey and the stranger to her right and got Scar's attention right away. "I need a whiskey sour," I ordered, hoping it would take him a while to pull up a virgin version of that so that I'd have an excuse to stand there.

Stacey's face spun around when I placed my order, and her eyes were pleading for help.

I looked at her as though seeing a long lost friend and did a stereotypical girlie squeal. "Stella!" I used the first name that popped into my mind while hugging her to me. "I haven't seen you in a few years."

Luckily, she had the good sense to play along and replied, "How long has it been?"

Scar set my drink down with a smile. I knew it was clean, so I picked it up and ran my tongue down the little straw sticking out of the top like I was thinking about her question. Speaking much louder than was necessary, I said, "I think the last time I saw you was when you were sneaking out of that hotel room when we got really wasted on shots and picked up some guy in a bar."

She laughed, but it sounded forced. "What brings you here?" she managed to say, giving me the chance to keep talking. Hopefully, since I wasn't wired, the guys wouldn't be able to hear everything.

"I'm in town for work and had a free night, so I was hoping to find a little fun, but the guys so far leave a little to be desired in the adventure department," I said, glancing around and letting my eyes linger on the skip longer than the rest.

"How much adventure do you want?" Stacey asked.

I gulped my drink, wondering how Scar had gotten the balance between the Coke and Soda for color perfect, while still leaving me enough flavor to make it drinkable. Before I got too distracted by the drink, I set it down and said, "Now that I've run into you, I'm full of ideas."

Finally, she began to relax and play along enough to make this work. "I'm up for anything you have in mind. Every time we've played together, it's ended in an unforgettable night."

I gave her a grin, proud of the fact she was finally getting into this, and said, "Okay, I'm thinking we should try to recreate the night from our college graduation, when we found a guy and played that game for hours."

"Steph," she said, using my real name. I needed to remind her not to do that. "We've played all kinds of games. Which one do you mean?"

Of course I was going to have to come up with one, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You remember... First, you and I gave him a little show, and then we flipped a coin to see which one of us he got to have first."

She giggled and jumped in. "I remember winning the coin toss, but somehow, I'm fuzzy on what happened after that."

I decided I needed to reel this guy in with something good, so I said, "We both had plenty to drink, but I think when you climbed up on top of him and got settled, I decided I didn't like being left out, so I straddled his legs behind you and put one hand on you and one on him. He finished long before you were ready, so you leaned into me, and I finished you off with him still inside. I don't remember much else about the guy, but I do remember he was a trooper and didn't seem to mind us using him like a toy while we took care of each other."

The skip's mouth was literally hanging open.

The guy sitting on the stool next to me put his hand on my ass and said, "If you're looking to repeat that night, I'm more than willing to be used like a toy."

I glanced at him and thought it was a shame he wasn't the skip, because he was much better looking. Instead, I said, "I think Stella should pick our toy for the night." I spun around and removed the hand from my ass in one smooth move.

She nodded and turned back to the skip. "I'm not sure if you overheard us..." she started to say.

"I heard every word," he assured us, reaching in his suit jacket for a handkerchief to wipe his shiny head.

"You were being so kind to me earlier," she continued, setting him up perfectly. "I'd love to be able to return the favor."

"Yes!" he practically yelled.

"Yes what?" Stacey asked unnecessarily.

"Yes, I'll gladly play along to let you two repeat the crazy night of sex you had the last time," he eagerly volunteered.

"Then let's get out of here," I spoke up, ready to get this guy back in custody. "I'm parked out front, and my hotel isn't too far," I offered, surprised at how stupid the skip was to fall for all of this so easily.

He threw down a wad of cash to cover all our drinks, and then said, "I'm at your disposal, so lead the way."

I took Stacey's hand in mine to get her moving and was glad to see the skip following along like a kid being promised a trip to a candy store.

As soon as we cleared the door, Angel stepped up and grabbed the skip, informing him instead of a trip to a hotel with two hot women, he was heading downtown for a night in lockup.

The guys came out and gathered around us once more as soon as the skip was carted off. Needle had a grin so big, I could see the light bouncing off his teeth from fifty feet away. "Girls," he began as he draped an arm over each of our shoulders, putting himself in the middle, "I am so sorry to hear that your reunion was interrupted, but if you still want a chance to relive it, I have a coin, and I can assure you that I'll do more that just lay there while the two of you do all the work."

I patted his cheek and replied, "I'm sure that's true, but after that first minute and a half are over, then what will you do?"

The guys burst out laughing and picked on him for not being able to last with two women. Needle pretended to be hurt, leaving us to defend his honor against the comments of Michael from the other side of the group.

I turned to Stacey and asked, "You okay?"

She nodded. "It turned out to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. If you hadn't come over, I'm not sure I could have gotten him out the door."

"You could have done it," I lied, hoping she would believe me. "You just needed a little more confidence. It's the attitude that most guys follow out."

We reviewed a few more details, and then the group began to break up. Needle and Scar announced they were going to take Stacey home, so the rest of us began to return to the cars we'd come in, as well.

Angel and Rodriguez were going over a few more details, along with some things the guys could have done in that situation to help Stacey. Obviously, they weren't going to have another woman to bring in next time, so they needed a Plan B option, other than a threesome, as a possible fall back story if she froze again.

I listened, but didn't make any suggestions, feeling like it was time for Boston to start figuring this out on their own, since we weren't going to be around to help them much longer.

I was lost in their conversation enough that when a hand grabbed my wrist and jerked it around, I was so caught off guard that it was being twisted behind my back, radiating pain strong enough to make me see stars before I could make a sound.

Fortunately, my stunned silence didn't last, because the moment I heard my attacker say, "Well, girlie, you aren't very aware of your surroundings," I knew exactly who it was.

"Red!" I screeched, letting Angel and Rodriguez know I needed help.

Angel spun around with his gun drawn, aiming it dead at Red's face. I hadn't even seen him grab for his weapon in the blur of movement he became when I screamed.

Rodriguez disappeared into the darkness. One moment, he was there talking, and when I screamed, he was gone. I would have dwelt on how the hell he did that, but Red decided he didn't appreciate his former boss pointing a Glock at him, and he tightened his grip on my wrist, making me whimper.

"You sure you want to do that?" Red taunted Angel. "Since you took that blow to the head in your last mission, your vision hasn't been as good. Are you sure you can guarantee you'll hit me and not the little princess here?" As Red spoke, he twisted again, briefly taking my vision away when I heard a popping sound come from my body.

Angel used his free hand and tapped his temple to reply, "Got contacts. Vision's a hundred percent now, so yeah, I'm absolutely sure I can guarantee what I'll hit."

When Angel put his hand back to stabilize his gun, he added, "But if you let her go and step away, I've got no reason to prove it to you."

"Nah, I don't think so," Red replied. "She and I need to have a little chat – alone."

How did he get hired at RangeMan? Who did his background check? And if it was clear when he was hired, how did this guy ever pass an annual mental health evaluation to stay in active service? I was no expert, but it was pretty obvious to me that he was nuts.

Red lowered his voice to talk to me. "You think you can just walk in here and screw with people to run the show? Angel may not have the balls to stand up to you, but I've got nothing to lose."

I remembered something Tank had told me once about a man with nothing to lose was the worst kind of guy to take out. There was nothing you could bargain with, and their desperation would short circuit normal thoughts so that reasoning wasn't a possibility. You were basically forced to wait them out and hope they made a mistake you could capitalize on.

"I don't want to run the show," I said, my voice cracking from the pain in my wrist and the fear of what he was going to do.

"Too late," he said with a sick laugh. "You've taken over, and the damage is done, so now, you have to pay the piper."

I was about to ask who the piper was, but Red suddenly went limp and hit the ground, pulling me off balance so that I fell on the parking lot with my arm still twisted behind me.

I'd barely blinked from the shock of what happened, when Rodriguez's face was within inches of mine. "Don't move," he commanded.

I found myself obeying out of confusion about what had just occurred more than a desire to please.

He tossed Red's arm off of me, not giving him a second glance. Then he lifted my torso by gently gripping my shoulders and pulling me toward him to be in a seated position.

My shoulder hurt and my arm was throbbing as he moved it around to rest across my legs. I looked down and could already see the purple bruising setting in around my wrist, but more alarming than that was the chunk of glass sticking out of my arm, causing blood to drip down and land on my dirty dress.

I reached over with my good arm to pull the glass out, but Rodriguez stopped me. "You need to wait until we're somewhere that we clean that up."

"Nearest ER?" Rodriguez asked, looking over at Angel, whose face was radiating anger.

"No!" I said, louder than the situation called for. "I don't like hospitals. Needle can patch me up at the office."

Angel stepped over Red, and Rodriguez stepped away to call someone on his cell phone.

I looked at the man who had flipped out and hurt me and asked, "Is he dead?" I hadn't heard a gun shot, and I didn't see any blood, but he wasn't moving at all, which was unnerving.

Angel shook his head no and said, "Nah, Rodriguez has a bag full of tricks to knock somebody out. He'll have one hell of a headache and his neck will be sore for a few days, but he'll live." He paused, before adding, "Unless the boss tells me otherwise."

"You really should go to the hospital," Angel repeated. "Needle is dropping off Stacey, and it may be half an hour before he's in the office. I've called the cops to come haul this sack of shit away, and you'll need to give a statement. They could find you at the hospital. Mass General is top notch."

I felt like he was rambling, which amused me, for some reason.

Before I could turn down his offer for the hospital, the blue and whites pulled in. "I'll wait for Needle," I informed him, as a cop about the size of Tank approached us.

He looked at the man on the ground, over to Angel, and then at me with his eyes ending up on my arm. "He do this?" the cop asked with a nod to Red, who was still on the ground.

I nodded.

"Dead?" he asked, looking over to Angel.

"Not yet," Angel answered.

The officer took my statement while his partner cuffed Red, just as he began to make moaning sounds, indicating he would be regaining consciousness soon. They pulled him to his feet, a cop supporting each of his arms, as his eyes opened. Rodriguez returned to stand in front of me, partially blocking Red's view.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," the large officer said. "It's time for you to go to your new castle."

Red snapped to at that, realizing he was in handcuffs, and began to struggle while screaming that he wasn't done with me and that I wouldn't get away with this.

As they got him in the cruiser, Rodriguez wrapped his arms around me from behind and cradled my injured wrist in his hand against my stomach. It had taken nearly forty minutes to get the scene cleared away, and while the distraction had kept my mind off the pain in my wrist, now that the show was over, I was abundantly aware of my injury.

"Come on. We need to get you taken care of," he said softly from behind me.

We climbed into the SUV with Angel driving and sitting alone up front, as Rodriguez got in the back with me, still holding my right arm, with one hand at my elbow and the other supporting my wrist. I could have told him that it wasn't necessary, but the contact kept me from thinking about the pain as much, so I kept my mouth shut. There were a few major potholes between the bar and the office, and since Angel drove as all Bostonians do – full speed ahead – I felt the impact of every one as the pain intensified every time. By the time we stopped at the office, the look on Rodriguez's face gave the appearance he was in as much pain as I was.

Angel opened my door, and as I got out, Needle pulled up, slamming on the brakes and squealing his tires from the sudden stop. He jumped out and ran over to me, softly touching around my wrist, before grimacing and saying, "I think a trip to Mass General is in order here."

I started to object, but he spoke again, "I can get the glass out and stitch up the cut easily, but you're going to need an x-ray to determine whether or not it's a break or a really bad sprain, and I don't have the equipment here."

I zoned out for a minute, trying to figure out how to refuse a trip to the ER, when the other guys stiffened. I found myself involuntarily moving closer to Rodriguez, who put a hand under my elbow to keep me safely against him.

"We expecting somebody?" Needle asked Angel as the noise level around us grew.

The boss shook his head, until Rodriguez spoke up. "I made a call."

They did a silent communication thing, which usually pissed me off, but at the moment, I was too overwhelmed to complain. Finally, Needle spoke up and said, "Let's go to my office and see what we've got."

As long as they weren't forcing me to the hospital, I was okay with going anywhere they suggested, so we made our way to the elevator, and then up to the third floor, where Needle had a medical suite appointed much the same as we had in Trenton.

We stepped out of the elevator just as the stairwell opened, and I heard a deep voice say, "What in the hell have you done to our girl?"

I was about to run to Tank, when a body only marginally smaller stepped out from behind him and quickly came to me. "Bomber, what have they done to you?"

Hearing Bobby's voice and knowing he would do everything possible to keep me away from the ER was such a relief that the tears I had been holding back finally fell. Bobby pulled me to him, miraculously sheltering my arm. "Come on. Let's check out the damage."

Needle led the way, not seeming the least bit upset that Bobby had upstaged him in his own office. Tank told Angel they needed to talk downstairs while I was being cared for. I was confused by that, because the only things downstairs from us were the gun range and armory... and the gym. It hit me that Tank had most likely been sent up here to call Angel to the mats.

"Don't hurt him," I called out to Tank. I wanted him to understand that it wasn't Angel's fault I was hurt.

"That would defeat the purpose," Tank responded, as he and Angel moved to the stairs.

Bobby pulled back and motioned for me to walk into the medical office, but I turned back and said, "Marco?"

Rodriguez turned around and looked at me when he heard his name. "Where are you going?"

He shrugged, as though he'd assumed he wasn't necessary right now.

I held out my good hand toward him and said only, "Please."

Bobby moved as my partner came quickly to my side, sliding his hand into mine and leading me into the exam room. He spun around and lifted me onto the table, but I grabbed his hand as he attempted to move out of the way, trying to convince him to stay close. Luckily, he got the point and moved to stand behind the table out of the way of the guys, but close enough to keep his hands on my shoulders.

It didn't take Bobby long to fix my arm up, numbing it to remove the glass, clean out the cut, and give me a very neat row of seven stitches. Once that was done, he lifted my hand and began to examine it. When he rotated it slightly, I made a whimpering sound, and Rodriguez literally growled from behind me.

I wasn't sure if he was hanging on emotionally by a thread the same way I was, so I leaned back slightly until my back hit his chest, and then distracted myself by asking Bobby, "As much as I love seeing you, why are you here?"

Bobby kept looking at my hand and wrist, but chuckled at my question. "Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?"

"You and Tank were out in a helicopter taking joy rides and just happened to land when I needed you?" I rephrased.

"We felt a disturbance in the force and knew we needed to find you," he tried again, nearly making me laugh.

"Who tipped you off?" I pushed, knowing someone had called him.

He looked at me, and then glanced over my shoulder to the man supporting my back, before looking back to me.

I twisted my head back to see Rodriguez and asked him, "Did you call Bobby?"

He gave me a single nod, confirming he was the one that had called in the cavalry.

I watched him for a moment, wishing he would say something, but finally realized he was waiting for me. "Thank you."

He gave me another nod, but when I turned back to look at Bobby, he whispered in my ear, "You're welcome."

Bobby broke up anything else that might have been said by announcing, "I'd bet your Tasty Cake stash that something is broken, but I can't tell if it's in the wrist or the bones leading into your hand." He set my hand down gently on my lap and rolled back a few inches on the stool he was sitting on. "I think tomorrow, we'll take you to an orthopedic specialist's office and get it checked out. But there is no need to rush to the ER right now and deal with the general triage area, just to be referred to a specialist for treatment tomorrow."

I smiled, even though I knew I was just putting off the inevitable, because Bobby knew going to a doctor's office would be okay with me; it was just the emergency room I wanted to avoid.

He pulled out a splint and an ace bandage and used them to mock up a stabilizing cast for the night. Then he pulled some pills out of a locked cabinet and brought them over to me. I looked at them and shook my head no. I hated taking pain pills and feeling all loopy and out of it.

I watched him take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, his giveaway sign of frustration. "You're going to need this to get any rest at all. By the morning, that will be swollen even more, and I'm betting the purple will have spread from your fingers to halfway up your arm to your elbow. After the adrenaline leaves you, it's going to hurt like crazy." He was making a great argument, but I still didn't like the idea of being out of it so soon after being snuck up on.

Bobby set the little paper cup with two pills in it and a bottle of water on the bed next to me and looked at Rodriguez behind me pointedly for a moment. Then he turned and looked at Needle to say, "You and I are going to find the best specialist in town, vet them out, and then make the necessary arrangements to have them open their office early to treat Bomber."

Needle nodded, but his eyes showed this wasn't something he'd ever done.

They left, which surprised me, since I'd figured Bobby would threaten to pinch my nose until I opened my mouth for the pills. It hadn't crossed my mind that he'd left an even bigger threat in the room with me.

As they walked out, Rodriguez came around from the back of the exam table and sat down on the rolling stool to take Bobby's place in front of me. He picked up the bottle of water, twisted off the lid, and handed it to me.

I took it and had a little to satisfy him. Then he picked up the cup, and I shook my head no.

"Please," he said, turning my word on me.

Damn it, who told him I had trouble saying no to that?

"I don't like feeling so fuzzy and out of it," I explained.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

With all seriousness, I nodded yes and replied, "More than ever."

"Then take these, and I'll carry you upstairs and take care of you. On whatever honor I might have left, I promise I won't let anything or anyone get near you until you are alert in the morning," he vowed, temporarily taking away my ability to talk.

Luckily, that didn't last long. I set the bottle of water between my legs and took the pills in my hand. "I thought you told me you wouldn't carry me around and take care of me when I got hurt because of my own stupidity."

"I won't, but this wasn't because of you. It was because of us letting our guard down while we were exposed in the open. We let you down, and you got hurt. Carrying you up a flight of stairs is the least I can do to begin making it up to you," he explained.

I shut my fingers over the pills and said, "I refuse to take these if you're going to sit around blaming yourself. This was only because of Red. He is totally to blame – not you. If you're going to be wallowing in guilt all night, then I have to keep my wits about me to argue with you."

His face fell, so I pushed my advantage. "But if you'll admit that you aren't to blame, then I'll take the pills if you promise not to leave me alone in my apartment."

His head fell to hang loosely for a few seconds. When he brought it up again, his decision was made. His need to watch over me was greater than his desire to beat himself up. "I'm not going anywhere."

He used his fingers to gently open my hand with the pills and lift it to my mouth. "It's a deal," he said, indicating I needed to keep my end of the bargain.

I quickly washed the pain meds down, and then scooted forward to hop down off the table.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"I'm getting down so we can go upstairs before I start falling asleep," I explained, knowing how fast these pills usually worked on me.

He moved quickly to scoop me off the table, carrying me like a bride, close to his chest, with my arm resting against my stomach. "I know I haven't been around people much lately, but the deal was that I would carry you, and I never break my word."

I let my head rest against his shoulder as he began to move. I wasn't exactly sleepy, and the medication definitely hadn't kicked in fully yet, but it felt good to let go in his arms. Something about this man called out to me to trust him, and I absolutely did. It might seem like an odd partnership, but over the last week, we had made it work and right now, the only person I trusted to stay with me and give me what I needed was the silent man easily carrying me across the threshold of my apartment.

My eyes closed on their own, and as my consciousness began to fade, I was aware of him kissing the top of my head and promising me that I was going to be all right. I relaxed further into his arms, believing every word.


	12. Getting Patched Up

_I am completely taking over the creation of JE for my own fun._

_Jen (JenRar), I can't get over how easy you make the writing process. Thank you for working as the beta on this story and helping to keep me straight._

**Chapter 12 - Getting Patched Up**

"All right Miss Plum," the middle aged doctor in front of me began. "From the x-ray, the bones are not broken. However, the MRI shows us that you did receive a tear in the ligament here,"—he used a pencil to point to the picture on the screen on the wall before adding—"and here."

I glanced at Bobby, who was sporting a completely blank face, which meant this wasn't going to be a diagnosis that ended with take some Motrin, ice the injury, and call me in four weeks for a follow up.

"Because of the location and severity of the tears, the bones in your wrist are unstable, which will only worsen in time without corrective measures," he continued.

"Surgery?" Bobby asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but we can do it here with Percutaneous Pinning. It's a procedure where I pin the bones in the proper location using a fluoroscope as a guide, so there is no true incision. The pins stay in place for six to eight weeks while the ligament heals itself. I think the chances of this method working are great, since it has been kept stationary since the injury and there is no scar tissue interfering with the healing process."

"What are the chances of this working alone?" Bobby pushed.

"Quite high," the doctor responded with enough confidence to make me relax a little. "Once the pins come out, there will need to be some extensive physical therapy to assist with the rebuilding of strength and mobility, but there is no reason to think after that is finished, she would not be back to one hundred percent."

"We'll need this done today," Bobby stated, as though he assumed a busy orthopedic surgeon had nothing better to do than bow to his every wish.

"Let's go." The doctor stood and motioned with his hand that I should follow him.

"Wait. Now?" I screeched, sounding like a frightened girl.

"I have time, you have the support to get you home safely and care for you after the procedure, and it would insure the correction was made in time to increase the likelihood of a full recovery," he explained, his hand still stretched out, indicating I should walk through the door.

"I won't be asleep, will I?" I asked, not keen on the idea of being fully under.

"You don't need to be. It is really a simple procedure, but I will need to numb you up with a local," he offered, dropping his hand, as though giving up that I was just going to follow along as he'd assumed I would.

"I'll be in there with you," Bobby spoke up, so I nodded and let them lead the way.

We passed through the waiting room, where only Angel, Needle, and Rodriguez were seated. As we walked through, I stopped and walked over to my partner.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

I shook my head no. I didn't want to be a baby, but the doctor was talking about screwing me together like I was some kind of carpentry project. I didn't want to be put to sleep, but at the same time, knowing I was to be wide awake wasn't exactly comforting, either.

Before I could explain it, Bobby came back to the waiting room and said, "Bomber, he's ready for you."

I nodded my head, knowing I needed to pull myself together and go, but I had trouble forcing that message on to my feet.

Rodriguez must have seen my struggle, as he stood up and took my good hand, tugging slightly to get me to move. "Come on. I'll go back with you."

In the surgical suite, the doctor had put some sort of apron on over his scrubs and was holding something that looked like a cross between a dentist's drill and what you'd find in the contractor tool section of Home Depot. "This won't take long, and I'll have you outfitted and ready to go. With the supports in place, you won't have any restrictions except to wear the brace and don't do anything that causes pain. The idea is to keep everything in place while the ligaments heal, so keeping it still will be key to healing completely."

I sat down on the table, and then laid back when the doctor indicated I should.

"I'm going to use a series of injections to take away the feeling, and then we'll do a thorough cleaning and get started."

I turned my head to the opposite direction and focused on Rodriguez, who had moved to lean against the wall. Bobby was over by the doctor's side, asking questions and making his presence known to reinforce the message that he better not screw this up.

Seeing the look of panic I was failing to cover up, Rodriguez pushed away from the wall and brought over a rolling stool to sit on at my good side.

"Thank you," I told him, unsure of what else to say.

I grimaced when the first needle pierced the skin, and then felt the warm burning sensation of the medication going in at my elbow. I shut my eyes, hoping that would keep the tears inside and not allow them to embarrass me by running down my face.

"You'll be fine," I heard Rodriguez whisper near my ear, as his hand began to stroke my hair.

I wanted to look at him to see if he was being so kind out of pity or if he was really willing to be helpful, but I was afraid if I opened my eyes, the tears would give the true level of my fear away.

I felt a couple more pricks of a needle, and then I only felt the occasional movement of my arm to position it best for the procedure. I tried to focus on the sensation of my hair being stroked, instead of letting any of the medical discussion bleed through.

When the machine came on, I jumped, and then managed to stay still as three small pins were screwed in through my skin into the bones of my wrist to stabilize my hand.

"I'll help you," Rodriguez began to speak.

I felt my face break into a half smile at his words. "I'll be doing one handed searches, and distractions are totally out of the question as an option. Only I would get injured so badly while hanging out in a bar's parking lot that I wouldn't be able to finish a simple assignment for Ranger."

"I figured you did it to be sure I started pulling my fair share of the work. So far, I've made you do all the heavy lifting," he countered, pulling out the rest of the smile.

"You know, for a guy who says he doesn't do conversation, you're pretty good at this," I encouraged him.

"I hear if you work with someone long enough, they start to wear off on you," he replied, giving me the incentive to open my eyes.

"How am I supposed to show somebody how to do a distraction?" I asked, knowing I was complaining in the form of a question, but unable to stop it.

"I wouldn't worry about that just yet. We've still got a day or two here, and then we have several days of training Miami on just the searches alone, before we have to face distractions at all. Besides, a helpless female is an easy pick up to some guys, so it's possible the brace will work for you," he offered, making a valid point.

"I don't want to go back to Trenton," I said abruptly.

"Of course not," he quickly agreed. "You've faced a lot worse than this and not given up. There's no way you'd let a little parking lot brawl stop you."

"How did you knock him out?" I asked, switching the topic once more in what I knew was a dead giveaway of my nerves.

That got me a smile. "An old Jedi trick."

"That was not the answer I was looking for," I replied with a straight face. My deadpan misquoting of the _Star Wars_ line cracked him up, and I was officially distracted from what was happening to my left.

"Some of my training back when I was active involved a lot of hand to hand skills. If you can disarm someone silently, you have a much better chance of completing a mission without having to use deadly force. There are a few points that if sufficient hard pressure is applied, the victim will temporarily lose consciousness," he explained in a really long answer by his standards.

"That would be handy to know," I told him, silently wondering if he could teach me.

As if reading my mind, he added, "I don't think you could exactly copy me, because of the shear strength involved in the clamp down to knock them out, but there are plenty of other tricks I could teach you."

I knew my eyes doubled in size from his offer. "Maybe in a couple of months, we could try it."

His smile faded, and he asked, "Why do you want to wait?"

"I assumed it would be a good idea to get the pins and brace off before working on hand to hand combat skills," I told him, feeling like it was pretty obvious.

He shrugged, as though it didn't matter at all. "There are always different ways to approach a problem. Two hands aren't necessary for everything."

I looked at him, trying to figure out where Mr. Helpful had been for the last week, while I was busy thinking I was failing in bringing him out of his shell.

"What?" he asked.

"You're being so…" I couldn't figure out a word to insert in the blank that wouldn't come out as totally insulting.

He waited for a minute, but once it became obvious I wasn't coming up with any real answers, he resumed running his hand through my tangled hair and said, "I'm trying. I guess in certain situations, you bring out the best in people. The guys tried to warn me that it could happen, but I didn't believe them."

"What did they say?" I asked, when the noise level in the room grew again.

He gave me a half smile and said, "I think Santos called you a force of nature. Bobby here told me you'd have me thinking up things to do and say to make you smile, and Tank just said there was nobody like you, so I needed to look out."

I decided to push my luck and asked, "What did Ranger say?"

His smile fell a little at that question. "He told me if I brought you back with so much as a scratch on you, he'd personally see to it I wasn't able to leave my apartment for several weeks."

"What?" I blurted out. "He threatened you?"

"I don't blame him," Rodriguez added, pulling a curl around to lay it with the others against the pillow. "This whole visit to Mr. Craftsman over there could have been avoided if I had simply followed guard protocol, which would have been to make you walk in front of me and not allow you to wander behind, where someone could gain easier access to you. Honestly, when I saw Tank last night, I assumed he was here to deliver on Ranger's promise."

"How is Angel?" I changed the subject.

"Walking with a limp and favoring his left side, but overall, that's not bad for an hour with Tank when he's pissed off," Rodriguez offered.

"Not bad?" I wondered. "What would be considered bad?"

"I remember Cal going into traction once," he said with a straight face. There was a little sparkle in his eyes that made me wonder if he was serious or not, but I decided not to push my luck by asking any more.

"All right, you are all set. Everything was still perfectly aligned, so I'm guessing your recovery will be smooth, baring a new trauma to the wrist," the doctor announced, foolishly implying the wrist wouldn't be reinjured.

"What if I have another injury while the screws are in there?" I pushed, needing to know how bad it could be.

He blinked, like he was trying to vet out how serious I was with that question. "The bone is much more likely to break right now, the ligaments could develop scar tissue requiring a graft to reconnect, the pain and swelling alone could be treatment prohibitive. I would suggest steering clear of any rough activities in order to insure that doesn't happen." Then he dared to ask, "How did you happen to injure it this time?"

Bobby took a step closer and said, "She hurt it in the line of duty, and I believe we discussed how you didn't need any details about that."

The doctor cleared his throat and looked down. "Right, well, I'd just be sure I wasn't back in the line of duty for a few weeks, and you should be fine."

I rolled my eyes, but managed to keep my mouth shut. While Bobby and the doctor began discussing what specific limitations I needed to keep in mind, I chanced a glance over at my hand and was shocked at how terrible it looked. It was already blue and purple from my propensity for bruising, but it was swollen more from the drilling and screw insertion and was now a dark color, especially around the small titanium screws completely visible in my wrist. "It looks like something out of Frankenstein," I commented, lifting it closer for a better look.

Rodriguez took put his hand under mine to support the numb limb, and possibly to keep me from hitting myself in the face with the hardware once momentum began to bring it faster toward my eyes.

"Impressive," he said, using a fingertip to trace some of the bruise lines around it.

I watched his hand, unable to feel his touch and a bit disappointed that I was missing the chance to know what it felt like.

The doctor brought over a couple of braces to give me the choice between pink and black. "I'm sorry I don't have more options, but right now, this is all I have that will allow for the screws to stay in place without rubbing against any bracing."

I'd never been a pink kind of girlie girl, so I sighed before saying, "The black will be fine."

"It could be worse," Bobby commented, seeing I wasn't overly thrilled with my options. "If you were in Trenton, Ella would probably find a way to embroider it to make it an official part of your uniform."

Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to return to Congress Street. Bobby jumped in front, riding shotgun to Angel's driving, leaving Rodriguez and me in the back seat. Needle stayed behind to talk to the doctor more about working with future RangeMan injuries. He had proven himself capable of treating without getting into the particulars, and he was obviously flexible to allow for any security requirements the guys might have, which made him a great doctor to know a little better.

"I'll update the office with your condition, and maybe we can look at resuming the training in a day or two," Angel stated as we began to move.

Bobby drew in a quick breath, and Rodriguez looked out the window.

Obviously, they both knew I didn't appreciate the announcement that I wasn't working today or tomorrow.

"I'm pretty sure I am capable of handling a debrief on last night's takedown," I assured him in what I thought was a very pleasant tone.

"You just had surgery. You need to rest," Angel foolishly pushed.

"And I think you had your ass handed to you on the mats last night, so you might appreciate a day of down time as well," I countered with a little more edge.

Bobby busted out laughing, and Rodriguez looked at me and grinned, before adding, "You sure you don't want to take it easy today?"

"Unless you plan on spending the whole day by my side, spilling your life history and discussing your emotional state at length, then I'm not interested in hiding in the apartment," I answered bluntly, knowing how he'd feel about that.

I got a quick body shiver as a response before he informed Angel, "All right, man, it looks like we'll be ready for that 0900 briefing."

I smiled with appreciation at how easy it was to manipulate these guys.

"How long are you staying?" I asked, nudging Bobby's shoulder with my good hand.

"That depends on you," he replied. "I thought I might be needed for a day or two, but if you're going back to work, I can brief Needle and forward some instructions to Miami on your behalf and go back today."

I looked at Rodriguez quickly, before venturing, "I think I'll make it, so you can go on back. I know you've got plenty in Trenton to keep you busy."

After Angel parked the SUV in the garage below the office, Bobby jumped out and opened my door, before telling me, "Nothing is more important to me right now than making sure you're okay. When I got the call last night and informed the guys, it was all I could do to keep the passenger list down to just Tank and me. Everybody wanted to come to check on you because of what you mean to us. I'm pretty sure guys were lining up to call Ranger to the mats for sending you up here without enough back up to be sure you were protected. If you need me, I'll stay by your side as long as it takes."

I cupped his face with my hand and smiled at his sincere words. "I believe you, and I can't thank you enough for jumping in a helicopter and rushing up here just because I got hurt. But I can't let you stay. There's no reason to, and I'm pretty sure the guys can handle me – especially since this will probably slow me down a little."

He grinned and replied, "Don't let it slow you down too much, or they'll think we made up stories about you."

I lightly tapped his cheek, before taking my hand away. "Thanks, Bobby," I said, trying to reinforce how much I appreciated him being here.

He lifted his chin in Rodriguez's direction and said, "I think you're in good hands. The guys will be curious how you two are getting on. I can't wait to tell them."

I lifted my shoulders a little and drew my lips into my mouth to think. "I wouldn't sell it as any kind of miracle, but I trust him, and I believe he has my back."

"You can call it whatever you want, but I know a Plum miracle when I see one," he countered, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my forehead. With that, he was off.

Angel excused himself to join the end of the morning briefing and said we'd meet with the rest of the takedown team in an hour. Rodriguez came over to where I was leaning against the SUV and just looked at me.

I should be used to people watching me, but something in his expression made me think he was seeing a lot more than I wanted him to. His gaze was very disconcerting, and it didn't take me long to worry he was figuring out all sorts of secrets I wasn't ready to spill.

"Breakfast?" he broke the silence to offer.

I just nodded and followed him to the elevator. We went to the break room, which was empty, since all the guys were in a meeting. I sat down in the chair he pointed to, allowing him to rummage through the fridge to pull us each out a bottle of water, some yogurt, and a muffin that looked like it had sugar sprinkled on top. Obviously, Ranger wasn't approving these snacks.

I broke a piece off the top edge of the muffin and popped it in my mouth, surprised that the blueberry flavor was so good. "Don't you just love the tops of muffins?" I commented for no good reason. "It's too bad you can't just make that part, since it's so much better than the rest."

"You can," Rodriguez replied, attacking his muffin in a similar way.

"Sure, but you have to cut off the top and pitch the rest of the muffin, which is a complete waste," I corrected.

"They have muffin top pans that look like really shallow cupcake holes that produce just the top of the muffin when you use them," Rodriguez explained.

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "What are you? A part time pastry chef?"

Rodriguez covered his mouth quickly to prevent any crumbs from coming out when he laughed. After pulling himself together, he explained, "No, but I do keep the television on in the background during the day, and I've seen a show or two on the cooking channel."

"You cook?" I blurted out. I already thought it was unfair how attractive all the RangeMen were, but to know that one of them could cook, too, was giving him an unfair advantage in being the perfect man in my book.

He looked down to answer, "A little."

I laughed out loud, surprised at how evil it sounded, but decided to capitalize on that by saying, "You are going to offer more than just two words."

"Demanding little thing, aren't you?" He pretended to be put off by my pushy attitude.

"Stop trying to change the subject," I bit back, making him laugh.

He leaned back in his chair, holding his bottle of water. "All right, it's no big surprise that I spend a lot of time by myself in my apartment. I read a lot, and I watch movies or television. Since I haven't gone out much, and I'm definitely not going to hang out with the guys in the break room, I've been learning how to cook on my own. Ella gets me whatever I need from the grocery, and then I keep busy by myself."

"Are you going to let me taste your accomplishments in the kitchen?" I asked.

He looked a little uncomfortable with that idea, so I tried to backpedal, not wanting to make him uneasy and ruin the progress we'd made. "I'm sorry. Your apartment is your personal space, and I don't want you to feel like I'm wiggling my way in there. Just forget I said that."

"No," he interrupted. "You didn't say anything wrong; I'm a little weird about my privacy. It's all on me. I'm just out of practice at anything…normal."

I noticed he didn't go so far as to say he'd cook for me, but at least he wasn't pulling away.

We finished our breakfast, talking out what we still needed to accomplish here and figuring we could leave the day after tomorrow. By the time we finished planning out what needed to be done, the guys were coming out of their meeting. A few popped in the break room and spoke to us.

Scar came by and pulled a curl. I noticed Angel slowly make his way in for a cup of coffee. I made a mental note to apologize to him privately. I hated to watch him suffer, knowing I was the cause of the lesson Tank was sent up here to teach him.

I was so unaware of my surroundings that I didn't realize Rodriguez had stood up and walked around behind me until his face was near my ear to whisper, "You need to stop with the guilt over Tank calling Angel to the mats. It needed to happen, and he was the best person to do it."

"But I feel so bad about him getting hurt because of me. Tank is so big..."

I was going to continue my argument, but was stopped.

"Tank is the best of all of us at pulling punches and holding back to keep from inflicting unnecessary damage because of his size. If he hadn't done it and Ranger had come up here, Angel might not be walking. And if they'd asked me to do it, he'd be in worse shape still," Rodriguez warned.

"Last night, you said you thought Tank was here to teach _you_ a lesson. Why weren't you called to the mats?" I asked, hoping I wasn't pushing him too much.

I got a dry chuckle in response, before he answered, "Bobby said it was because they figured the day to day of seeing you injured because of my negligence and being the one to help you when you need it might be enough of a reminder that a physical beating would be unnecessary."

"Seems like you got off easier than Angel. I mean, I'm pretty independent, so I don't see me becoming some demanding patient that has all these needs you have to attend to," I said, to point out that I wasn't some helpless damsel in distress.

I felt a hand push my hair away from ear in order to allow him to get closer still. "No, I don't expect you to demand help; it would be so much easier if you would, so I would feel like I was making this up to you in some way. Trust me when I tell you that Ranger knew exactly what he was doing."

With that, he walked away, and I found myself alone in the break room. I sat there for a few minutes, replaying our conversation, trying to make some sense out of it and failing. I finally just decided that all guys were weird, and since he was out of practice communicating with people, Rodriguez was even stranger than the norm.

I stood up to leave and saw that my sneaker had come untied. I bent down to redo the knot and realized with the brace on my hand, I couldn't use my thumb and index finger effectively, so there was no way I was going to get this shoe fixed on my own. I decided to surprise my partner by asking for a little help.

He was sitting in the back of the conference room, staring at the laptop screen as though it contained the answers to all of life's mysteries. I walked over and lifted my foot, placing it on his black cargo pants without explanation. Rodriguez looked at my shoe, up to my face, and then back down to my shoe.

When he started looking around my waist, I got uncomfortable and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"The crop," he said simply, before reaching over and fixing my laces.

"What?" I was completely confused.

"You seem to be channeling that leather bound woman from a few nights ago, and I was wondering if you had the riding crop or not," he partially explained, making me understand he'd just made a joke. Admittedly, it was at my expense, but it was still a joke.

"If I intended to start smacking you around, I wouldn't do it in a public place that's about to be overrun with our co-workers," I teased in return.

He finished the bow off with a double knot, and then wrapped a hand around the back of my calf, leaving his other hand at my ankle, effectively holding me in place. "So if the co-workers weren't going to be here, you're saying the crop might make an appearance?" His eyes were absolutely sparkling, so I knew he was joking.

That is the only reason I felt confident enough to put a finger under his chin and lean over, putting more of my weight against his thigh. In the best sex kitten voice I could muster, I replied, "I'm saying if I decide you've stepped out of line, a conference room isn't where I'd exact your punishment."

His hands flew off my leg, as though it had caught on fire, and the door opened, before some of the guys from last night's distraction came in. I smiled at Rodriguez when he shook his head like he was trying to clear it.

It was only because I was still leaning into him that I heard him mumble, "Force of nature, my ass. You'll be the death of me."

I wanted him to know I'd heard his little confession, so I put my lips a few inches from his ear and said, "But what a way to go."

I forced myself to walk away with just a quick glance back over my shoulder. I couldn't help but smile at the fact that he had a blank stare on his face, and for once, he wasn't hiding it behind his computer.


	13. Dealing with the Past

_JE gets all the credit for the universe I am completely exploiting below._

_Jen (JenRar) thank you so much for your hard work as the beta on this story. I know I don't make this easy on you, but you always seem to help my ramblings make sense._

**Chapter 13 - Dealing with the Past**

The squealing of tires caused me to spin around to figure out what was happening. History had taught me that was never a good sound, and I needed to know if I should try to make a run for it or just brace for impact.

I should have known better than to assume trouble was possible at a private airstrip secured by RangeMan, standing in front of Ranger's private jet.

When the SUV stopped, a young looking guy got out with a cardboard box and ran over to where I was standing. "This just came for you, Ms. Plum."

I was going to correct him, but if he hadn't gotten the message that I preferred to go by Stephanie by now, then telling him one more time as I was literally leaving the state wasn't going to serve much of a purpose. Instead, I thanked him and held out my hands for the box. Before he could transfer the weight to me, Rodriguez stepped up and took it.

"Hey, it's a federal offense to take mail that doesn't belong to you," I teased, making Erik, who had just stepped off the plane, look as though he might have a heart attack.

Erik closed the distance between the plane and where Rodriguez and I were standing in a few fast steps to stand in front of me. I guess the last time he saw my partner, his opinion was that Rodriguez was highly dangerous and likely to flip out with very little prodding.

I knew I needed to tell him to chill out, but I didn't want to be obvious about it.

But before I could say anything, Rodriguez spoke up and said, "You know you can't haul around boxes with your wrist, and it's only a federal offense if I tamper with it. There's no law against carrying it."

Erik took a small step away, but stayed close enough to jump back in if the situation warranted it.

"Oh please..." I decided since Erik was relaxing, I could pick some more and added, "This has nothing to do with my wrist and everything to do with you wanting the first glance inside the box in case my mom included something for you."

"Careful, Plum, or I won't cut the tape for you," he threatened in return, moving toward the open stairs on the plane.

I dutifully followed him, with Angel bringing up the rear, my suitcases in hand. Erik got all our luggage secured in a closet and left us to say goodbye to our host from Boston.

Rodriguez stuck his hand out with no words of explanation.

Angel took it and added, "Thanks for everything, man."

That less than Hallmark moment ended, and then Angel turned to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed hard, trying to let him know how badly I felt about his night on the mats with Tank.

"We've discussed this," he said in my ear. "It needed to happen, and I'm fine."

I pulled back enough to see his face, but didn't drop my hold on his shoulders. "Thank you for making us at home in your office."

Angel smiled and offered, "If there is anything I can do for you – ever – I hope you'll call."

"Just look out for Stacey," I reminded him. "She may have a few rough outings before the whole distraction thing starts to be comfortable, but I'm sure she'll begin to relax into it once she learns to trust you guys to take care of her."

"After seeing you around the office being held together with hardware, I think a lot of the guys are beginning to look at her as a little sister that may need protection," he responded. "She'll be okay."

I smiled full force at the little sister comment, figuring if they began to rally around her, the feeling of family and being a real team might grow there and Boston would be all right.

"I've already called Raoul and told him we're sending you down there, but if something happens to you on his watch, I'll be coming down to finish the lesson that Tank will pound in first." With that threat, he put a friendly kiss on my forehead and stepped away.

"Thanks again," he called out, before quickly descending the steps so we could make our way down south.

Erik secured the door and announced, "All right. Sunny Miami, here we come," before moving to the cockpit and pulling the curtain to separate us for takeoff.

I sat down and eventually got my seatbelt secured. After completing that task, I realized I had nothing to distract me from the stress of takeoff.

"Can I have my box, please?" I asked Rodriguez, who had it sitting in the chair next to him across the aisle.

"I'll open it for you after we level off, and you can unpack it during the flight," he responded casually.

"No," I said too quickly, causing him to raise a single eyebrow, obviously questioning why I was so hell bent on getting in the box right now.

"Sorry," I blurted out, hoping he'd let it go.

"Plum, you're going to have to do better than that. What's in the box that you're so keen on seeing?" he pushed.

I shrugged, honestly not having the first clue what was in the box. "Just curious," I lamely offered.

The plane began to pick up speed, and I gripped the arm rest with my good hand, realizing the damn brace and screws took away my ability to hold the plane together by gripping my seat on both sides.

When the wheels left the runway and that brief feeling of weightlessness came over me, I shut my eyes, hoping I'd adjust quickly and there would be no turbulence. I heard Rodriguez shuffling and tried not to resent him for being such a comfortable traveler, while I lived in mortal fear of crashing, despite my childhood dream of being able to fly.

I jumped and let out a less than ladylike sound when something touched my arm. Instantly, that light contact turned into a heavier hand on me, and a voice I now recognized as Rodriguez's said, "Steph, you're all right. Why didn't you tell me you were afraid of flying?"

"I'm not afraid of flying," I corrected him, before clarifying, "I'm only afraid of crashing."

He covered up his chuckle well enough that it didn't hook my anger. "Here. I opened your box so you can see what's inside."

When I opened my eyes and looked to my left, he was sitting beside me in the empty seat with the package from my mother in his lap. I left the box there and turned to see inside better. There were the two tins that I'd expected to see, another book that looked like the sequel to the first one she'd sent about the klutz of a female bounty hunter, and a sealed envelope that seemed to contain some pictures, based on how it felt in my hand.

I held the envelope up, and Rodriguez got the message that I'd like him to open it for me. He used his handy knife skills to slice through the top and gave it back to me to pull out the contents. On top were the school pictures of my nieces, with Mary Alice showing her missing two front teeth. Her hair was messy, like she'd been running outside just before having the photo taken, but she had a wonderful smile that I found myself returning, despite her not being here to see it.

Underneath was a small black and white picture of my dad in his Army dress uniform. I thought it was interesting that she'd included that, but our last couple of phone calls had her talking more and more about what it was like to draw out the quiet man that was Frank Plum when they first started getting to know each other. I assumed the nostalgic mood had her going through old snapshots.

Finally, there was a current picture of Grandma Mazur in a leotard and tights that showed off her scrawny legs in the most unflattering light. It was lemon yellow and made her look slightly jaundiced. She was holding an umbrella and had her arms out to her side. My mom had a post it stuck to the front that said, _Knife throwing didn't work out, so she's moved on to a tight wire act. Once she learns how to balance on a two by four board, she's threatening to try walking on the clothes line in the backyard. Hurry home!_

"That's your Grandma?" Rodriguez asked, bringing me back to the present.

"That's her," I confirmed.

"She doesn't seem so bad," he thought aloud, looking at her small, thin frame.

"She may not look like much, but she has bruised many a rear end from the office when they've had to carry me to my parent's house. She may be small, but she's unpredictable and determined not to let any social norms get in the way of her fun," I tried warning him.

I put the things back in the box and pulled out a tin of cookies, handing it over to Rodriguez to figure out how to open.

"I see you're only pulling out one. Are we eating from mine or yours?" he asked with a smile.

"Yours, of course," I informed him. "I'll share what was meant for you, but sharing my own loot is something else entirely.

We rode in silence, going through the tiny cookies at an alarming rate, until Eric opened the curtain and announced there was a storm ahead that we would have to fly above or through, so there might be a little unstable air. I interpreted unstable as extremely turbulent with a high probably of destroying the plane and crashing us into the ocean and lost my appetite.

Rodriguez boxed everything up, tucking in the flap to shut it and put the box on the floor in front of us. He had barely straightened up before it felt like we were being shaken to death. I began to squeeze the arm rest under my right hand, as though that would somehow provide the necessary support to keep us airborne.

"You're all right," he assured me, resting a hand on my arm just above my brace. It was warm and comforting, so when he lifted it when the shaking stopped, I immediately missed its presence.

He must have noticed I didn't like the absence of his reassurance, because he asked, "What can I do make this easier on you?"

I had no idea. The answer _you can keep the plane steady and still until we land_ seemed a little unlikely, so I didn't bother throwing it out there.

He must have known I was struggling, so he leaned his seat back, and then reached across my arms to hit the button on my armrest to lower my back, as well. With us both reclined, he offered, "How about I try distracting you?"

Well, this could get interesting really quickly. "How?"

He grinned, and the way his smile was higher on one side than the other reminded me of a boy giving his mother a mischievous crooked smile. With the relaxed face he was sporting right now, I was struck by how handsome he was. His hair was a deep brown, and his skin was definitely darker than mine, but not nearly as dark as Ranger's, or even Lester's. It was obvious he had some mixed heritage in his background, but it was impossible to determine what he was a mixture of just from looking at him.

I'd already figured out the flecks in his eyes seemed to sparkle when he was amused or playful, but at the moment, the deep brown was so lovely, framed by his long lashes. He was well built, but didn't look like his entire life was devoted to time in a gym. Of course, the short sleeve over his bicep was pulled tight, and his lower arm had such definition of muscle and veins that I longed to run my finger along the roadmap that appeared to be there.

His chest and stomach were well developed and hard, but I figured he probably only had a six pack, not the full eight that Ranger maintained. Still, the idea of getting him to join me at the beach without his shirt on was enough to distract me. Just with the thought of what he'd look like under all that RangeMan black was making me miss the shower in Scar's apartment already.

He carried himself in a way that convinced me he was every bit as lethal as the core team, even if he had the least amount of mass. Of course, calling him small would be like saying an elephant is a little animal. On its own, no one would make that mistake, but compared to a Tyrannosaurus Rex like Tank, he wasn't on the same scale. Still, I knew there was power and strength in him that he had learned to hold back, so I wondered what he would be like if he lost control. The incident in the gym in Boston was one thing, but all his fury was directed to the bag.

We hit another bumpy patch, and I lost my hold on the images that were flooding my brain of Rodriguez. It was probably a good thing, since lusting over the guy you have to work with is never a good idea.

He must have seen the sudden onset of panic on my face, because he started talking at the perfect volume to soothe and not overwhelm.

"I have family in Miami," he volunteered, getting my attention immediately.

"You do?" I asked, with only one crack in my voice as I spoke.

"My kid sister and her husband are here, along with their two sons." He paused, before jumping in and disclosing more about himself. "I haven't seen her in four years. She doesn't know I'm coming down now, or she'd probably be on the front steps of RangeMan, demanding I come out and see her."

"Do you have a big family?" I asked, hoping he would keep talking.

"Not anymore," was his blunt reply.

What kind of answer was that? Did he used to have a big family and something happened to them, or did they disown him so that he didn't feel like he belonged anymore. Why were guys so darn stingy with the details?

"All right, I'll tell you so that you don't strain anything trying to figure out what I mean," he teased, knowing exactly what kind of thoughts were running through my mind.

"My dad's parents lived outside of the county and died when I was in grade school. I barely knew them, and we didn't get word of their passing until months after the fact. My mom's parents didn't approve of her marriage to my father, so they lived across the country and didn't really talk to us. When they died, my mom went alone, refusing to let any of us go with her to what she called the circus of their burial. My Dad was an only child, so there were no relations on his side, and my mom had a single sibling that died in Vietnam, so there were no relatives there. It was just my sister and me growing up. We were only fifteen months apart, so we were pretty close. But we grew up in this fantastic blended neighborhood in Miami, full of kids and characters of all sorts. We spent every spare moment outside, playing with the other kids, so it felt like a family, even if there was no blood to tie us together."

I could totally picture that.

"This kid a few houses down from me lived with his grandmother; hell, she was probably the smallest adult I'd ever seen, but we were all scared to death of her. Anyway, he graduated and joined the Army. I saw him on breaks, when he got leave to come home and visit, and since nothing else seemed to hit me as a good enough career to pursue, I decided to join up, too, when I finished school."

I wanted to ask who the kid was, but I didn't want to interrupt out of fear that he wouldn't finish his story.

"So I left the close knit neighborhood for the bond of a military unit. It wasn't exactly the same, but it suited me fine and I seemed to be good at everything Uncle Sam threw my way, so I stayed in after my first enlistment was over, deciding to make a career out of it."

Now I was curious how he went from a career in the Army to RangeMan.

"Of course, while I was gone, a lot of the people in the old neighborhood moved – or died – so whenever I came back home, it felt less and less familiar. And while I got better in my fighting skills, I moved from a large unit to Special Forces, where I served with a small team of four to six. At first, I missed the loud, crazy feel of a squadron of men, but pretty soon, the small, tighter knit group began to suit me just fine, so I went with that."

I guessed that was what he meant by no longer having a big family.

"Different assignments would sometimes bring in different support members, but for the most part, for two years, I stayed in the near constant company of five other guys. You know four of them as Tank, Ranger, Lester, and Bobby."

He stopped talking, so I looked at him and could see his expression change. I wondered if I wanted him to keep talking, or if the pain of whatever place his memory was forcing him to revisit was too painful for him to go on.

"The other guy, you've never met. We called him Bull, and he was the best damn sniper I've ever met. He and I were close – hell, inseparable. My parents both died in a car crash while I was in some South American jungle, and Bull decided his family had room for another kid, so he started forcing me to go home with him every time we got leave. It took a while, but I finally started to relax there, and his parents treated me as Bull's equal and a second son."

Silence filled the plane, and I knew if I said a single word, the spell would be broken and he'd find a way to change the subject. So I did the impossible and kept my mouth shut.

"Six years ago, we were on leave, celebrating our most recent mission's success, when a guy started talking junk to us at a bar. Bull was more than a little hammered and pushed back, refusing to step away from a punk spouting off at the mouth. It was right after our return to the States, and we both had too much of the fight reflex in us. I could see it going to hell, so I called his dad, who was a cop in town, and then went back to try and keep them apart long enough for the blue and whites to show up."

I didn't need to hear anymore; I already knew what was coming. But the look of determination on his face told me he needed to say it, so I just listened.

"When the sound of the sirens came through to the bar, Bull straightened and looked at me, asking if I'd made the call. I nodded yes, and he rolled his eyes. In that split second of distraction, the asshole that he'd been fighting with pulled a knife and went for Bull's neck. I yelled, and Bull reacted, but I think it only made the attacker that much more determined. The blade caught his jugular, and by the time Bull's dad got to the bar, his son was almost gone, bleeding to death on a dirty barroom floor.

"I couldn't handle the look on his dad's face when he knelt beside us on the floor. I let him take Bull from my arms, and when his dad pushed me out of the way, I spun around to hightail it out of there. I drove a few hours to get back to the base we were stationed from and locked myself in my bunkroom, hiding like some damn kid afraid he was going to get into trouble. The next morning, I decided to man up and drive back to his parents' house. I was deluding myself into believing once the cops showed up, they saved Bull's life and I needed to go see him in the hospital.

"As soon as I unlocked the door and walked out, I saw Ranger sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. I knew…I knew Bull was gone. Ranger could have picked the lock or kicked the door down, but he waited for who knows how long so that he could tell me the news when I was ready to listen. I told him he was wrong and that he was lying, that Bull was still alive, but my heart knew it was true. My closest friend was dead, and I'd run out on him in his final seconds of life."

"The next week was a blur of drinking and hiding. Then my CO cornered me and said he was sending me back out with a single partner on a long term assignment. I figured that was a damn good idea, since it meant I would be far away from everything that reminded me of what I'd lost, so I packed up and left the next day. Six months later, I was in the U.S. again, but everyone I knew was gone. Ranger and Tank had left and started RangeMan in New Jersey, of all places. Bobby and Lester were just getting out, and they were intent on moving up north to join our old commander. I had an open plane ticket to Trenton in my name, along with an invitation to come join the team up there when I left the Army.

"I did a few more short term assignments, working alone mostly, and when my enlistment came up again, I opted out. I had a contract to still run special ops at will, similar to what the other guys had, but I was done with not having any say in what I did, so I took Ranger up on his offer and showed up at Haywood without any advance warning. I'd only been there twenty-four hours, when he had me rounding up skips. That shit was fun at first, because I worked alone and the cops didn't seem to care if the criminals came back in a little worse for wear, so I didn't have to hold back."

He stopped again, and I tried to figure out how he got from a good solo BEA to the recluse I knew him to be.

"Out of the blue one day, I got a file for a big son of a bitch that had an MO of carving people up with knives. It was right up my alley, so I came up with a plan to get him and took off alone. I snuck up on him easy enough and heard sounds coming from the basement. By the time I got downstairs without being detected, the skip had already finished with his fun. He'd gotten some young guy – twenty-four, twenty-five tops – and had cut some words in his chest. When I came around the corner with my gun drawn, the skip smiled at me and plunged the knife right into the kid's neck, hitting the artery, insuring he'd bleed to death. I froze. That kid didn't exist anymore; all I could see was Bull, bleeding out in that bar. The skip got away, and I got a major head fuck.

"I handed the file over to Ranger, and the guys rounded him up the next night before he got another victim. I knew I had some stuff I needed to deal with, so I hopped a plane back south and rode into town to see Bull's parents. His youngest sister opened the door, and once she realized who I was, she didn't waste any time slamming it in my face. I knew there was no point in knocking again, because she was probably the most stubborn person I'd ever met. I drove over to the station and found his dad, instead, but before I could even say hello, he looked me in the eye and told me it would be better for everyone involved if I just left. Then he added since that was all I was good for. I hadn't thought that his family would be this pissed at me for walking out when Bull died. I'd just reacted without thinking."

I knew exactly what that was like. I tended to act without thought all the time and found myself apologizing afterward most of the time.

"I tried to apologize, but he didn't want to hear it. He told me when I turned my back on Bull and the whole family, I'd lost the right to talk to him. When I disappeared, they had to bury their son, and then mourn the needless loss of both of us. They'd let me in their hearts, and I'd shoved it in their faces by taking off. Then he told me I was a selfish coward, and if I didn't get out of his office, he'd arrest me. I came back to RangeMan. I was still technically on vacation, so I just stayed in my apartment and no one came in to see me. For three days, I played the scene with Bull over and over in my head, and I realized I'd let him down, and because of that, he'd died. That would have been hard enough to stomach, but he'd died while I ran away, and that didn't sit well with me. I tried everything I could to get his father's words out of my head, but I knew what he'd said was true. There was no good way to look at it – he was right. His parents lost their only son, and then they lost the one person that could have kept his memory alive for them, because I was too much of a pussy to go back and face them. I never made a conscious decision to pull away, but I figured it was better for everybody if I kept a little distance. I didn't want anyone to depend on me, and then be disappointed if I left them high and dry."

So that explained why he kept to himself. I still got the feeling there was more to the story, but this was enough to better understand the man I'd started this assignment with.

"After a few months of blowing everybody off, they gave me the distance I wanted. Then I revamped my job to still be useful to RangeMan, but I didn't have to see anybody. Once I did that, there was no reason to keep the same schedule, so I flipped over to a third shift life. Every few months, the guys would try some new approach to get me to come out, to pick up a skip, or hit a bar. They tried guilt, anger, threats – hell, I think Ranger even mentioned me not having a job anymore – and I just blew it all off."

How in the world did they talk him into coming on this assignment?

As if he'd heard my question, he said, "The first time Ranger asked me to go to the other offices and train them on searches and distractions, I said no – flat out refused to do it. He said he'd send you, and I figured that was a much better idea anyway. You already run the best damn searches in the whole company, and you are the only person we use regularly for distractions, so I washed my hands of it."

Since he was basically living only in his apartment, I wondered how he even knew about me.

Either I was talking out loud again, or he just happened to know what I wanted to hear next. "I stayed current on all the news, because I reviewed all the take down logs and daily activity reports. I knew every skip RangeMan had brought in, who had been injured, who had done something stupid, and which of the new recruits showed the most promise. I saw your name come up more and more, and I wondered why in the hell Ranger kept letting you go out in the field without training you. It wasn't your fault you were getting hurt. Hell, even by Bobby's assessments, most of your injuries could have been prevented with a couple of days' worth of self defense training. When Ranger came down to try and talk me into going with you, I asked him why he'd never bothered to teach you how to take care of yourself. We got into a verbal sparring match, and he basically told me if I was such an expert on how to handle Stephanie Plum, then I needed to take the damn assignment, spend the time with you to teach you a few skills here and there, and then I could come back and hide in my apartment all I wanted.

"Tank pulled us apart and threw Ranger out before it turned really ugly. Then the big guy shut the door and spent the next two hours explaining his take on you and the boss. By the end, I found myself saying I'd go, just to keep an eye on you, if nothing else. I figured we'd be in the office most of the time, I could pick easy skips for the distraction demonstrations, and in a couple of weeks, you'd be back home and I would have done something to repay Ranger for letting me stay on at RangeMan even after I shut everyone out."

"So you're just here out of some sort of debt to Ranger?" I asked, sounding every bit as hurt as I felt.

"No, I came out of a debt to Ranger, but I'm here—" he emphasized the word by putting that warm hand back on my arm "—because I couldn't keep you out. I had been away from people long enough that I assumed I could keep my interaction strictly professional, and then I could just keep you at arm's length like I did everybody in the office. Of course, you wouldn't have any of that, and the next thing I know, I'm watching you, trying to read your expressions or make sense out of the mumblings you make when you're working. I've never met anyone like you, and I couldn't stay away. But when you came down to the gym and snapped me out of my trance by standing up to me, I couldn't block you anymore. You didn't push me away, you didn't call me selfish for coming up with the easy distraction pick up plans and making you have to live with the consequences, you didn't back down when I told you to; you just stood there and accepted me.

"I'd forgotten…" He stopped then, unable to say any more.

I figured that was probably more than he'd said in the last couple of years all rolled into one conversation, so I didn't push.

"You didn't forget," I spoke up. "I'm just not your average, ordinary girl. I'm pushy and stubborn. I refuse to follow orders, and I don't use a lot of foresight in my planning. I fly by the seat of my pants and work around anything that tries to get in my way. I'm sure whatever you planned on doing to keep me away would have worked on anyone else, but I'm not just like everybody else, so I guess I was immune to your _don't mess with me_ vibes."

"My vibes?" he asked, totally confused.

"You know... Your scowls, your grumbling, the lack of eye contact, the refusal to talk more than a single word or two – your vibes," I explained.

He nodded, as though trying to understand what I'd said. "You mean when someone's being an ass, you refuse to leave them alone," he countered.

I smiled. "Nope, I see it as a personal challenge to needle my way in, and I refuse to back down."

"So you're just talking to me out of some sense of adventure and stubbornness?" he asked with a flat voice.

"No, I came on this trip out of a sense of adventure and stubbornness." Then I covered his hand on my own and added, "But I'm here because you are unlike any guy I've ever known. Once I saw that you were hurting, I simply couldn't leave you that way. Plus, you seemed to see me as more than just a set of legs and boobs. You recognized there was a brain in there, too."

He laughed. "Oh, I see your legs and boobs. Don't paint me as some celibate saint, Stephanie."

I rolled my eyes at his comment. "Well, I see your big muscles and your tight ass, but there is a lot more in you, too."

His eyes fell to our hands, and I wondered what on Earth was going on in his head. I was just about to break the silence, when he looked up at me with that trouble maker smile I was beginning to recognize on him and said, "You think I have a nice ass?"

He was having fun at my expense, so I had to knock him back in line. "I said you had a _tight_ ass. Maybe I was just calling you anal. You shouldn't presume to know what I'm thinking."

He laughed and made a comment mostly under his breath that what I'd said was true.

We rode quietly for a while, still holding on to each other over my injured arm.

Then I spoke up. "You know his family was out of line, right? I mean, yes, they had to mourn the loss of both you of when Bull died, and I'm sure it made it twice as hard, but if they were serious about thinking of you as a part of their family, then when you came back, they should have jumped at the chance to welcome you home. I have a feeling if Bull saw that, he'd be pissed at his dad and sister."

I watched his head bob up and down, as though he agreed with my guess about Bull's reaction to his family's behavior. "Still doesn't change the fact that I left. The person I was closest to in all the world was dying, and I ran away."

"Did Bull and his dad get along?" I asked bluntly.

"Hell yeah. They were virtually inseparable when we went back to see them," he quickly answered.

"So, is it safe to assume if he was taking his last breath and knew he was in his father's arms that he would have been okay with who was holding him?" I pushed.

"I'd never seen a father and son like those two. He'd have been more at peace with his dad than anyone else," Rodriguez replied after thinking about it for a minute.

"So you can drop the guilt trip over leaving your friend while he was dying. You literally handed him to his father and gave them a few seconds to say goodbye. You didn't abandon him. But once your head realized he was going, you started to grieve, so you ran. It might not have been the most mature response, or even the healthiest one, but I'm the first one to admit that when I'm upset, I don't always pick the best option. You ran, and you dealt with the loss the only way you could. But you didn't let Bull down. You'd never been given the chance to grieve someone you loved when they died – your family all passed away while you were gone. It's hard to learn that kind of stuff as an adult. It's time to stop beating yourself up over it," I told him firmly.

His eyes narrowed, and I wondered if I'd just stepped over the line. "Business Administration?"

"What?" Oh great, I'd forced him to talk about his past, and now he'd lost his mind.

"Your major in college was in business, right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, it was," I assured him. "Why is that relevant to this discussion?"

"I've never seen a shrink with skills as good as yours, and I was curious if you had a background in psychology that didn't show up in the background check I'd run on you," he admitted with a small grin.

"You're right; I'm just flapping my gums, with no background to offer advice on stuff like this. But I know a thing of two about living with guilt, and it does no good. It's crippling, and it makes you say and do things that are totally foreign to who you really are," I confessed, hoping he didn't ask for more details.

"I've got a lot of years of it built up, though. You can't just flip a switch and make the past disappear," he warned.

"No, you can't, and you shouldn't. The past is a part of you; it made you who you are. But it doesn't control everything you say and do now or in the future. I have to believe my future is a blank slate, capable of being whatever I want to make it. Because if my past is going to dictate what will happen next, then I'm not going to live much longer." I pointed out.

He seemed to get that and leaned back into his seat silently.

I figured the conversation was over, so I relaxed and shut my eyes.

I heard his voice whisper in my ear, "In case I forget to tell you later, thank you for listening and for not judging me."

I didn't open my eyes, figuring he thought I was asleep. "You're welcome. And for the record, I don't believe in judging people unless they give me a reason to. You've done nothing but stand by me and stand up for me since I've met you. As far as I'm concerned, that on top of the fact that you can cook makes you the perfect man."

I could hear him laughing beside me and thought that it was a lovely sound. With my eyes still closed and the steady sound of the plane's engine outside, I was quickly soothed to sleep. I knew I was safe and the warm hand resting on my arm gave me the assurance I needed to let go.


	14. Motivational Techniques

_Thank you to Janet Evonovich for creating the world below._

_Jen (JenRar) thank you for the time you've spent as the beta on this story. Your excitement for each new chapter really is a huge motivator to keep typing._

**Chapter 14 - Motivational Techniques**

"Listen up!" Raoul barked out above the noise in the conference room. "We've got Rodriguez, who I know a lot of you know, and we've got Stephanie Plum here, and they're going to take us all through the background search process so we can clean up our act. We're getting our assess handed to us by the Trenton office in skips and pick ups, and the big boss seems to think it's because we rush through the research process. He's sent the two best down here, and we're going to listen and learn." With that warm introduction, he informed us the floor belonged to us and headed out the back of the room.

I was exhausted from the stressful flight down here and had hoped we'd just be settling in today, but Raoul was waiting at the airstrip to bring us back to begin training right away with half his staff, hoping we could do the other half tomorrow and be finished. I wasn't sure our method was going to work in such a large group, but in front of forty large, armed men dressed in black, I didn't think I could refuse to give it a try.

I looked at Rodriguez, who gestured with his hand that I should get started, so I stood up and walked to the laptop at the podium in the front. I picked up the first file in the stack and got down to business. It took an hour to get through the whole process, and when I was done, they had no questions or comments. I had heard that Miami ran a lot more formally than the other offices, but when they partied, they did it a lot harder than the other offices, as well. I couldn't picture how the extremes were possible, but so far, the more serious formal personality was definitely present in front of me.

Seeing they didn't need anything else from me, I handed my work over to Rodriguez and lifted my shoulders, implying I didn't know what else to do.

Rodriguez put the file back down on the podium, crossed his arms, and looked at the men assembled in front of him. "Since I know you were respectfully listening to every word Stephanie said, tell me when and where you would attempt to pick this guy up."

I didn't even need to pay attention; I already knew they were going to say at home or work and right now or maybe later tonight. When the expected responses came, Rodriguez looked at me and shook his head.

"This guy lives in the old public housing, where he could avoid you by going from apartment to apartment for days and you'd never find him. He works at a huge factory on third shift, so you'd never see him there, either."

He put the file down and walked back over to stand beside me. "If you guys didn't want to have us here, you should have said something. I would packed a bathing suit and turned this into a vacation, instead of busting my balls to help you all out and be ignored."

He began to move away and motioned for me to follow him.

"Where are you going?" someone asked from the back.

"We're going to get your skip," Rodriguez replied coolly. "We may as well make ourselves useful, and I know you won't be able to get him in the next two days before the time runs out on the bond if that plan is the best you can come up with."

They all looked completely shocked as we walked out of the conference room, and one of them called out sarcastically, "Good luck."

I understood the sentiment, even though I didn't appreciate it. According to the file, the skip was two-hundred sixty pounds and six foot six. He was wanted for aggravated assault and robbery and seemed to have a long history of letting his fists do the talking over the last five years. Most recently, he'd beaten the shit out of a guy in a deserted parking lot, and then stolen his wallet and car.

I was completely useless, which meant Rodriguez was going to have to do all the work. We got into an SUV, and I didn't bother asking how or when he'd gotten the keys. He took us straight to a place called Joey's that seemed like a hole in the wall sort of dive that had regulars that didn't socialize much. I remembered the skip's daily afternoon charges here on his MasterCard, so I wasn't surprised when he parked us near the building beside the row of motorcycles.

"You realize I'm not going to be any help here, right?" I asked, beginning to worry how we were going to pull this off without one of us getting hurt. As much as I wanted to protect Rodriguez, I wasn't all that keen on adding any more screws to my body right now.

"Piece of cake," he replied with a smile I hadn't seen on him before. He was having fun, and it was contagious enough that I wanted to join in.

"Put me to work, then," I said, trusting him completely.

Five minutes later, I was walking into the bar, careful to leave the door open so that I couldn't get dragged in and separated from my partner. My injured arm was carefully hidden behind me. I found the skip sitting on the closest stool and made eye contact with only him, while dangling the keys to the Explorer on my finger. "You don't by any chance know anything about cars, do you?"

He looked me over with a little interest, but not enough to follow me out just yet.

I pulled the brace from behind me so that he could see it and said, "I might have a flat, but I don't want to call the auto club if that little squishy look is okay. I mean, I've gotten laughed at enough lately because of this injury; I don't want to be seen as a complete air head."

I had him when he saw I was injured; he recognized there was a chance nothing was wrong with the vehicle, and I was giving him the keys. He stood up to his full height and pulled his pants up a little by slipping his thumbs in the belt loops closest to the center. He seemed so much bigger and meaner in person, so I started walking backward as soon as he began to move.

He followed me to the SUV exactly like we wanted him to. I pointed at the front tire, which was in perfect shape, and said, "Do you see how it has a little pucker at the bottom? Does that mean the tire is going flat?"

He didn't even try to hide his sneer at my ridiculous question. He did bend down a little, as though giving it careful consideration, and then said, "I need the keys so I can start it up and move it forward a little to be sure."

I saw movement behind us, and before I could focus on it, the skip was on the ground, completely unconscious, with Rodriguez standing behind him, grinning at me. He efficiently rolled the big guy over and cuffed his hands behind him.

He took his phone off his belt and waited before speaking. "We've got the skip cuffed in the parking lot of Joey's. If you want to send someone over, they can transport him to the station."

He leaned back against the SUV with his legs crossed at the ankles, looking very pleased with himself. "I forgot how much fun that was, and it's even better with a partner."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was like he was sixteen and just threw the game winning touchdown pass in his school's last football game. Before I could say anything else, another black vehicle pulled up and two of the guys I recognized from the meeting stepped out, completely shocked to see their skip in cuffs.

The guy on the ground was beginning to come to, so I stepped away to be sure he didn't associate me with what was about to happen to him. After he was transferred to the back of the other SUV, Rodriguez and I climbed back into ours and went back to the office.

"Do you have a gun on you?" I asked on the ride back, when it struck me I'd never seen him with one in his hand.

He looked at me like I'd asked if he had all ten fingers. "Of course. Don't you?"

I looked away to reply, "Not with me. I left it in Trenton."

He didn't say another word until he had crossed two lanes of traffic and pulled over on the side of the rode so that he could look me in the eye. "You are on official RangeMan business, and you aren't dressed?" He sounded both shocked and a little angry at that revelation.

"I don't like guns," I said, as though it were a valid defense.

"I don't, either, and I think I've proven they aren't the first weapon I go for if they aren't needed, but sometimes, that's all that stands between you and skip, and if that happens, you only have one chance to save your own life." Then he pulled up his left pant leg, and pulled a holster and gun off.

"I thought you were right handed," I commented, wondering why he didn't have that strapped on his right leg.

Apparently, the purpose of my question was obvious as he pulled up the other pant leg and showed me an identical weapon.

He checked the gun, slid out the cartridge, checked the load, put it back in, slipped the safety off and back on, and then put it back in the holster and handed it to me like the response should be obvious.

I just looked at him.

The stare off continued until he broke the silence. "Let me put this a different way. We aren't moving from this spot until there is a gun somewhere on your body. So take this and strap it on anywhere you want it, but you are going to wear it, even if I have to put it on you myself."

I didn't respond right away, testing how serious he was about forcing me to wear a gun. Didn't he know I hated these things?

He spoke to what I thought was my unvoiced question. "I respect the hell out you, so don't take this the wrong way, but I don't give a shit if you like the gun or not. Your safety is more important than your personal preferences right now. We'll go back to the office, and I'll show you how to shoot it. It's small enough you can handle it with just your right hand."

Well, didn't that just get rid of all my arguments. I figured I didn't really have a choice, so I decided to have a little fun at his expense instead. "I can put this anywhere I want."

He nodded that I was right, so I pulled out the Velcro straps and wrapped it around my upper leg on the right side. He was watching me, so I scooted it a little higher, and then I pushed my short skirt up and pulled the holster up even more, hiding my smile when the eyes watching me grew suddenly larger.

I managed to get it about as high as was possible without him being able to guess the color and texture of my panties, and then said, "Can you help me tighten the strap? I think I'll struggle with just one hand."

He swallowed – twice – and then reached over with a hand that wasn't all that steady and grabbed the holster straps to pull them closed. He began uncertain, but the longer his hands lingered, the more confident he grew. After he was done, he looked at me, but didn't pull his hands from my thigh to say, "So, in order to be sure you are properly dressed, I'm thinking I may need to examine your uniform every morning so I can trust that you have this on correctly."

The little tell-tale tightening at the right corner of his mouth appeared, letting me know he was struggling not to laugh. Knowing he was having fun, especially after the totally serious conversation we'd had on the flight down, was such a relief that I began to laugh. He joined me, leaning back and taking his hands with him. I didn't care so much for that, but figured it was probably for the best.

Ten minutes later, we were back in the office and heading to Raoul's office. "What the hell was that, Rodriguez?" Raoul asked, obviously not impressed with our disappearing act earlier.

"That was me getting the job done. If your guys don't want to take this seriously, we'll just round up the skips to get you caught up, and then we'll head back to Trenton, but I can guarantee you that we aren't going to yack our jaws if they aren't even going to try to catch on," Rodriguez replied, losing all hints of humor that he'd ridden up in the elevator with earlier.

Raoul rubbed his hand over his face a few times and said, "Look, I think we all got off on the wrong foot. We've heard the guys from Trenton sing her praises for a few years. Then the guys in Boston start calling and threatening us that we better take care of her of they'll come down and teach us a lesson on the mats. I told the guys to sit there, be quiet and respectful, and let her do her job so that everybody would get off our asses. They may have taken that to mean they didn't need to listen."

"That's cool, but that ain't our problem. If they aren't interested in learning, we aren't motivated to teach them," Rodriguez explained.

"I think if you'll try it again, you'll find them a little more participatory," Raoul said, before adding, "Look, you're killing me here. Stephanie can't leave the office while she's here. I've got thirteen messages already, threatening my ass if she gets so much as a hangnail while she's here. And you take her to Joey's to pick up a violent skip? What did I do to you, man?"

I'd heard enough, so I stepped forward and said, "For the record, there's nothing wrong with my ears, and you have absolutely no chance of keeping me locked up in this building. I might be good at running computer searches, but I'm damned brilliant at sneaking out of safe houses and locked RangeMan buildings. I'll handle the guys up north, you handle the guys here, and let's see how much we can get done, shall we?"

I thought I sounded reasonable, but the guys may not have picked up on that tone. Rodriguez was grinning at me, as though I'd just said the most brilliant thing ever. Raoul let his head fall to his desk and rocked it back and forth.

"My mother told me one day all the trouble I caused her would come back to bite me in the ass, and you two are here to collect on that, aren't you?"

"Payback's a bitch, ain't it," Rodriguez said with a smile.

Raoul's head jerked up as he responded, "Shit, you sound more like my brother every time I see you."

_Huh?_ "Your brother?" I said aloud, realizing that didn't make much sense. "Who's your brother?"

Raoul came around his desk, stuck his hand out, and said, "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Raoul Eduardo Manoso, the older brother of one Ricardo Carlos Manoso, aka Ranger, at your service."

I looked at the man currently holding my good hand clasped between both of his and was suddenly struck with the similarities I had somehow missed earlier. He was a little taller, but not as muscular. His hair was short, but the same color. Their skin tone was identical, and their eyes – there was something in the look of Raoul's eyes that reminded me so much of Ranger. It was a combination of danger and power, with just a hint of mischievousness. Something told me the two of them got into so much trouble as young boys.

Raoul dropped my hand and started laughing. "Hell yeah, we did, until Mama decided to split us up and send my baby brother to live with Abuela Rosa in Miami for high school."

The pieces started snapping into place as I turned to look at Rodriguez. "His grandmother in Miami…is Ranger the guy you followed into the Army that lived with the scary grandmother?"

Both the men began to laugh. "You're scared of Abuela? Man, she's only half an inch over five feet tall and can't even hit a hundred pounds on the scales. Why are you afraid of her?"

No wonder Ranger was so intent on helping out Rodriguez. He'd known him since they were teenagers playing in the same neighborhood together.

Seeing how relaxed these two were, I decided to try and have a little fun and get some work done at the same time. "All right, I'm ready to give this whole training thing another try. Are the guys ready?"

Raoul assured us they were, as he led us back to the conference room. When we entered, all the men stood up like they were acknowledging the presence of a commanding officer. This wouldn't do. I needed them to relax and get them out of the military way of thinking so that they could feel the instinctual form of computerized searches I wanted them to understand. What they needed was a different incentive. I couldn't threaten them with physical harm the way Raoul no doubt had, but I could be just as effective using more positive motivation techniques.

"All right, guys," I addressed them once I was back at the podium, picking up another case file. "We're going to try this again." I went through the whole process once more from start to finish and was so disappointed when they responded with dead silence.

I looked at my partner, who raised an eyebrow at me, as though he knew I wasn't finished. I was in a skirt, short heeled boots, and a button up, short sleeve shirt over a tank top with a built in shelf bra, so I looked at the guys and pulled up the credit report to ask, "Based on this activity, what conclusions can we draw about the skip's activities?"

I was waiting for the sound of crickets, the room was so quiet. I put my hands on my hips and said, "All right, it was cool in Boston, so I may have put on an extra layer or two that isn't necessary for working in Miami. So for every question you guys get right, I'll undo a button. When the shirt is open, I'll pull it off and we'll go for another layer, too, if you seem to be catching on."

I wasn't sure how I kept from doubling over laughing at their expressions. But after an awkward silence, a voice from the back said, "Looks like he goes to the same grocery store every day during the same one hour window."

I fumbled with the top button, but it didn't want to cooperate. Instead of allowing myself to look like an idiot that hadn't mastered dressing myself, I elected to channel my inner sex kitten and walked to the last row of seats, stopping in front of the brave soldier who'd spoken. I smiled and said, "Very good. Now, do us all a favor and pop that top button."

His hands were literally shaking as he pulled the plastic circle through the cotton opening in my blouse.

I put my good hand on his shoulder when he finished and said, "It's all right, big guy, it's just a button."

Turning to the rest of them, I continued, "So, that grocery is a possibility of where you could dependably find him, but it's really public, so perhaps it's not the safest place to go after him. What else does this activity tell us?"

"He's got a woman," a guy on the front row spoke up.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, not seeing the connection.

"Grocery store, liquor store, and flower shop charges. He's trying to keep his girl happy."

I shook my head and said, "No woman. That's not a valid assumption."

The guys started laughing and called out a few insults to the poor sap that had spoken up.

"Why did I say it wasn't true?"

Silence again.

This time, Rodriguez spoke up. "Charges at the grocery were too small to be buying food for two people. He cooks for himself alone."

I flipped my face around to smile at my partner and nodded. "Very astute."

I was about to ask another question, but the guys started complaining. "He got the question right; that's another button."

Not one to renege on a deal, I walked over to Rodriguez and said, "All right, big guy, claim your prize."

He moved slowly and spoke too softly to be heard, "My answer was really intuitive. Don't you think it deserves more than a single button?"

I smacked his hand and laughed, but he grabbed ahold of me and whispered, "I like the way they're engaged, but you only have three more buttons on this shirt."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm only asking four or five more questions."

While he was stuck figuring out what was going to happen after the buttons were gone, I spun back around to ask what else we could figure out. By the time we were done, the guys knew our skip worked second shift, he visited his mother in a nursing home on the days he didn't work, and he had a vintage car he was restoring. They had multiple places he could be picked up, other than his house and work, and they knew that despite his activities, he was a complete loner.

I, on the other hand, realized that with the right motivation, you could get guys to do just about anything. I sat down in my skirt and tank top, the shirt was on the back of my chair and my boots were in front of me so that my bare feet were on the floor.

It took Rodriguez only ten minutes to lead them through taking the info they'd dug up on the skip and coming up with a dependable take down plan. The guys were disappointed that my portion of the training being over meant my clothes stayed exactly the way they were, but they continued to be engaged through to the end.

After we finished, I handed out files to everybody and told them to go run their own searches and bring them back to us with a completed take down strategy memo attached. They practically ran out of the conference room.

When it was just the two of us, I sat back down to put my boots back on and said, "Wow, they seemed really excited to try running their own searches."

Rodriguez laughed so hard, there were literally tears running down his cheek.

"What is so funny?" I asked, getting weary of being left out of the joke.

"Stephanie, after your little training motivation, none of those guys are going to run their searches right now," he hinted.

"Why not? It's what I told them to do, and we're stuck in here until they finish," I complained.

That got him chuckling once more. After pulling himself together again, he explained, "I'm guessing most of them went to four, a few probably went to the men's room stalls, and there might be a couple in the gym's locker room."

"Why? Did I not make it clear what they needed to do?" I asked, running through my instructions again to see what I'd done wrong.

"You were fine," he assured me. "But after watching a beautiful woman slowly strip in front of them, I'm guessing they're all taking care of something else first so that they'll be able to concentrate on the file you gave them after they're done."

"What do you mean, taking care of something…" I started to ask, before it hit me he was implying they were all going in different directions so they had the privacy to masturbate before coming back to work on the searches. My face instantly went fire engine red, and I began to stutter, "They're going to…I mean…they're all…doing that…now?"

That nonsense sentence earned me a little more laughter, before he corrected me. "Not all of them. Williams is probably at his desk right now, happily running his search."

"Why is he immune?" I asked, always interested in exceptions to rules.

"Because I didn't take anything off during my portion of the training," Rodriguez explained, before he pressed his right hand against his cheek and rubbed small circles.

I approached him and moved his hand away from his face, "What's wrong?" I asked, placing my cool fingers against his warm cheek.

He smiled a little and looked down at his knees. "My face is sore from using muscles repeatedly that I haven't used in a long time."

"I could try to be more serious so you don't pull anything laughing at me," I said, pretending to be upset.

Rodriguez grabbed me, spun me around, and pulled me down to sit in his lap before I could even begin to figure out what he was doing. "I wasn't laughing at you," he said with all seriousness when we were eye to eye.

"I know," I promised him. "I was just kidding."

We looked at each other for a couple of minutes. "Why are you so much more relaxed now that any other time since we started this?"

He shrugged, almost dismissing my question, but I continued to look at him, waiting for an answer.

Finally, he gave in and replied, "I think it's a lot of stuff. I know more of the guys here than I did in Boston; some of them, I even grew up with. I'm getting to know you better, and you do have a way of getting people to let their guard down. Plus, the trip down was good – hard, but good."

I put my hand on his arm where it was holding me in his lap. "I'm glad. This version of you is a riot. Any chance this guy will be hanging out with me more in the future, or is the silent, grumbly man coming back?"

"I don't grumble," he argued.

I didn't respond; I just looked at him and wondered what that strange feeling was in the bottom of my stomach.

Before I could figure it out, the door opened, and Rodriguez said, "What do you have, Williams?"

His eyes never let mine, so I had no clue how he knew who was coming in the room.

"I finished my search," the voice of the guy I knew was Williams replied.

I shook my head to get it back to the reason I was here and got off Rodriguez's lap. It wasn't my most graceful dismount ever, but at least I landed on my feet. I blamed the brace for the awkward movements, but the fact that Rodriguez wasn't very quick to release his hold on me might have been just as much the cause. Figuring out why that was would be a different mystery entirely.

We were halfway through the file Williams had run, when the door to the conference room burst open and Raoul came in, breathing hard. "What did I do to you?"

Rodriguez and I looked at each other, both confused.

"I just got off the phone with Trenton. Apparently, they were drawing straws to see who gets to come down here and kick my ass for letting my guys strip you down during training. I wasn't even in the room, and I'm going to get my balls busted," Raoul explained, taking a seat at the table where we were working.

"Who's coming?" I asked, getting slightly sidetracked at the suggestion I might get to see some of my Merry Men.

"Right now, the forerunners are Lester and Hector," he answered, banging his forehead on the table.

Williams' head snapped over to Raoul when he listed the names, and I smiled, knowing he wasn't responding out of concern for his boss' head.

I stretched over and patted Raoul's shoulder. "Don't worry about Trenton. I'll give them a call and sort everything out. If they come down, I promise you won't get called to mats because of my motivational techniques."

He looked up, trying to judge my sincerity. "You'd do that for me?"

"Absolutely," I assured him. "It's my fault, and you shouldn't be punished because I didn't think through the consequences of what I was doing."

"Thank you," he said, before grinning at me and adding, "Any chance I can get a private viewing? I did have to endure being yelled at by my brother, so it would be a nice gesture to make it up to me."

I knew he was teasing, but before I could say anything to call him on it, a fist made contact with his shoulder, and he fell out of the chair he was perched on and hit the floor.

I looked at Rodriguez, who was back to staring at his laptop screen.

I waited for him to look my direction.

When he did, I could see him losing his grip on the blank face he was trying to maintain. "What?"

"Why did you hit him?" I asked, pointing to Raoul, who had climbed up into a different chair, farther away from Rodriguez. He seemed equally interested in the answer.

"That last comment was out of line," Rodriguez explained seriously, before cracking a smile. "And now you can tell the guys in Trenton they don't need to come, because I've already taken him down to the floor."

I laughed at his logic and decided it was a darn good argument to keep the guys back home exactly where they were. But when he lifted his hand to rub his cheek again, I smiled even more. I wasn't foolish enough to think Rodriguez was back to his old self and would never try to pull back from people. However, for this moment, he was happy, and that was enough.


	15. All Yours

_JE created the world below. I am just using it for my own entertainment._

_Jenny (JenRar) you have an incredible gift for working through the chaos I send you to produce an ordered, readable chapter. Thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 15 - All Yours**

"Yo," that voice I knew almost as well as my own said as he answered his cell phone before I even heard it ring.

"Ranger, you've got to cut it out," I jumped in.

"Care to be a little more specific, Babe?" he said with a smile that I could hear through the phone.

"You've got to stop threatening Raoul," I clarified.

At that, I got a barking laugh that made me have to pull the phone away from my ear. "As much as I like the idea of giving you everything you want, there is no way I'm going to stop giving my big brother a hard time. We've got thirty years of historic precedent, and I'm pretty sure there is something in the brother code that says it's my right."

"Okay, you can threaten him generally, but not because of me. You can't call him to the mats for the staff here responding to my training methods," I explained.

"Is that what you call letting my men take off your clothes?" he asked, sounding scandalized.

"Yes, it was a motivational technique," I informed him.

"Then what about the calls I got yesterday where the guys were eating candy off your body?" he pushed.

I couldn't help but laugh at the way he described what I'd done. "Okay, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. The second group was so uptight, they weren't talking at all. I was wearing a tank top, so it's not like I was naked and slathered with chocolate or something. I had a carton of those chocolate covered espresso beans, and before the guys arrived, I tried throwing one in the air to catch it in my mouth, but I missed, and it landed in the perfect way to stop in the divot between my collarbone and my shoulder. So when the guys needed something to help them open up, I put another bean on that spot, because I knew it would stay there, and told them whoever got the question right could take it from its resting place. When I said it, I pictured them using their fingers, but the guy who got the question right came up, grinning like he'd won the lottery, and put his mouth right over the candy to pull it in with his tongue. It was done as harmless fun."

"Who was the guy that got the question right?" Ranger asked.

"I think the guys called him Romeo," I said, trying to remember if I'd heard any other names.

Ranger cracked up again. "That's Lester's baby brother, Babe."

As soon as he said it, I could definitely see the similarities. He was a player from the moment he stood up to strut over to me, but the whole time I was going through the search process, he was listening intently. "That explains everything," I had to admit.

"I called off the honor guard after I read your e-mail from day one, so I guess this call is to make the point once again," he assumed.

"That's right. You can't send anyone down to beat on Raoul because of what I let his guys get away with during training," I asserted.

"You know Boston is complaining that they didn't get to watch you take your clothes off or eat off of you during your training with them," he commented, as though he were worried about some sort of rebellion. "They're screaming about unfair employment practices."

"Tell Needle to pipe down," I said, guessing at who was complaining. "They got to see me as a dominatrix and a slut looking for a threesome, so they got some giggles that Miami hasn't been privy to."

"Babe, if I start saying things like that, I'll have an uprising in Trenton because they've missed both experiences," he replied flatly.

"Group sex night, anyone?" I asked, reminding him of the Trenton classic. "I'll deal with the guys when I get back home," I assured him.

"How's it going, aside from winning over the men everywhere you go?" he asked, switching subjects.

"It's good," I said, knowing he wanted more than that.

"I hear Rodriguez is like a new man that I'd hardly recognize. He's making jokes, pounding my brother, and flirting with you," Ranger disclosed, making me wonder who his sources were.

"I don't think he's a new man. I think he's the same one that's always been there, he's just letting lose a little more now. He _is_ joking and smacking Raoul, but there's no flirting," I said firmly, wanting to make sure I wasn't giving the wrong impression. Yes, we were getting along wonderfully, and I was starting to feel things around Rodriguez that I didn't understand, but we were partners, and I knew that was how he saw me. There was no reason to examine it any further than that.

"All right," he said, as though he were trying to calm down a defensive individual. "I just wanted to let you know I'm proud of you, Babe. I knew being around you would make a difference. Even if he clams up a little when you come back home, just knowing he's capable of being the man we all knew is a big deal."

"He's a great guy. I'm glad you didn't give up on him," I said, feeling like it didn't do justice to how I felt.

We talked for another half hour, until I heard a fist pounding on the door of my apartment. I told Ranger goodbye, sorry that I had to cut our conversation short.

"What?" I asked, when I swung the door open to see who had interrupted my phone call.

Williams was standing there in leather pants and a wife beater tank, a bag in his hand. "Some of the guys are going out tonight and thought you might want to join us."

"What's in the bag?" I asked, not responding to his invitation.

He grinned and held it out to me. "Clubs here are a little different from Trenton. If you want to come with us, you'll need an outfit, and I was nice enough to deliver."

I took the bag and looked at the small amount of material in the bottom. The shoes that matched the outfit perfectly took up as much real estate in the bag as the dress did. Still, we weren't meeting until eleven in the morning to begin the whole distraction training, so being out late tonight wasn't that big of a deal.

"When are you leaving?"

He smiled, assuming my question meant I was coming. "At 2200 hours," he replied, but when he saw my face fall, he converted it from military time, saying, "Ten o'clock."

"I'll think about it," I replied.

"We'll meet in the garage, and I'll save you a dance if you decide to join us," he added, backing away from my door.

I shut myself back up in the apartment and went back to my cell phone to pull up Rodriguez's number. I texted, _Are__ you going out with the guys tonight?_

Less than a minute later, I got his response. _Only__ if you are_.

_Pick me up?_ I replied quickly, thinking if I needed any help getting dressed, he was the only one I trusted to offer the assistance.

_Be there in an __hour_, he texted back.

I looked at my watch and saw it was already eight thirty. That was usually more than enough time, but with only one hand, I tended to work a little slower, so I hurried off to the shower, hoping I could get it all done in time.

I was just finishing my hair and make up, when knuckles hit the door to my apartment. I pulled on a robe from the back of the door that seemed to be in every RangeMan apartment and let Rodriguez in.

"You ready?" he asked, looking at the robe with a smile. "It's not traditional club wear, but if anybody could pull it off, it would be you."

I hit his arm with my good hand and walked away, explaining, "I was just about to try on the dress Williams brought down. You can wait out here."

I picked up the dress and stepped in, pulling it up and over my hips with a little wiggling to get its fitted form where it belonged. The dress was a deep shade of blue and had sequins attached in various places, giving it a patterned, shiny look. There were two little spaghetti straps to hold it up, which meant the bra I had on was going to have to go.

I threw it on the bed and tried three times to get the zipper up in the back, but realized quickly it wasn't going to go up more than the three inches I'd managed to do unless I was holding the bottom with another hand. So I put the shoes on, hoping I was going to get to keep them after tonight, because they were fabulous, and then walked over to where Rodriguez was lounging on the couch.

"Can you give me a hand?" I asked, before turning around to show him the zipper.

He stood up and quickly closed the dress, before resting a hand on my lower back and saying, "You're gorgeous."

"That doesn't mean much, considering you're staring at my back," I pointed out, before spinning around to face him.

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth when I stopped moving and took his time giving me a once over. "You're right. From this point of view, you're drop dead gorgeous."

"Want to tell me why you're sucking up?" I asked with a laugh.

I could have sworn his face got a little more color to it, but he recovered quickly and replied, "I'm hoping you'll save me a dance."

"You dance?" I asked, wishing I hadn't sounded so surprised.

He took a step back to give a little more space between us. "I used to. I mean, this is where I grew up, so I've been to a club or two."

"How long has it been since you went out?" I pushed.

"Longer than my hermit routine in Trenton, but not so long that I've forgotten how," he told me as he sat back down.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water. We had a little time before we had to leave, and I knew I tended to tolerate my alcohol better if I was hydrated before I started anything stronger.

I handed him one, and then lifted the other to my mouth to use my teeth to hold the cap so I could spin the bottle to open it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, nearly spilling his drink.

I was about to explain my process for opening screw top bottles, when he took it from me, twisted off the cap, and handed it back. "Quit trying to take away my job. I'm the one that's supposed to be looking out for you."

"Thanks," I replied weakly.

"Plus, that's really bad for your teeth," he said, lightening the mood, "and we can't have anything messing with your smile."

We talked for a little longer and strategized how to explain distractions to the team tomorrow, until my cell phone buzzed that I had a text.

_Ready?_

"I think the guys are waiting for us," I announced.

He stood up and held out his hand to help me up. "No, I think they're waiting for you, but they'll let me tag along."

I took his hand and loved the fact he didn't let go after I was standing. "They'd better, since you took the time to get dressed in something other than black."

He spun around so quickly that I slammed into him before my feet realized he'd stopped. After stabilizing me, he gave me that wonderful crooked smile and asked, "Were you checking me out?"

I stepped around him, not sure I was ready for such a directly playful side of him. "I was just admiring the scenery. There's nothing wrong with that."

I heard him make a sound in the back of his throat as I walked away, before he added, "Not a damn thing wrong with that."

Two hours later, I realized I was in trouble. My feet were tired, my head was spinning, and I'd been danced with so much, my thighs were burning from the repeated motions on the dance floor, but the guys had been taking turns with me, so they were all energized and obviously prepared to make this last for several more hours at a minimum.

I finally put my hand up and said, "I have to sit down. You guys are wearing me out." We had pulled a few tables together and had a mismatched group of chairs, but there were no seats available.

Luckily, Rodriguez helped me out by grabbing my wrist and tugging until I sat across his legs. It felt so good to be off my feet for a few minutes, so I leaned into his chest, quite happy with my makeshift chair.

I relaxed, listening to the music and watching people dancing and attempting to score now that the late hour was turning the club into more of a meat market than a dance hall. A decent looking man walked past where we were sitting and over to the bar, ordering something before spinning around with his elbows on the bar behind him to scope out the joint while he waited for his drink.

I couldn't stop staring at him. It was like my brain had an itch that I couldn't quite reach to scratch. I knew him, but I couldn't place why. It wasn't until he started checking out the women sitting at the bar that I made the connection.

I jerked my head up and motioned for Williams to come over to where I was sitting. It was too loud to try and talk with him sitting across the table from me. He knelt in front of me, and I was temporarily distracted by what a sweet guy he was. He had some scars on his right hand, extending up his arm, that I'd been told were from burns given to him by his family when they found out about his sexual orientation. He left home at seventeen and lived on the streets for two years, before finishing school and joining the Navy. Despite the serious school of hard knocks he'd survived, he had the tenderest nature about him.

I shook my head to clear that side trip and pointed toward the bar. "The guy leaning over there..."

Williams followed my finger and stole a quick glance.

"Isn't he the one you did the search on a couple days ago?"

Realizing what I was asking, he turned back and looked a little longer, before confirming it was the same guy.

"Have you had trouble picking him up?" I wasn't sure if he was still walking around because Williams hadn't tried, or he just hadn't been able to succeed.

"The check didn't give me a lot of options, and I haven't been able to catch him in any of his normal hangouts. This isn't the kind of place he normally frequents," Williams explained.

"What was his MO?" I asked, wondering if we could take care of this guy tonight and get it over with.

Williams shut his eyes like the information was printed on the back of his lids. When he opened them, he had what I needed. "A couple counts of rape. Apparently, he's got a thing for playing the rescuing good guy to get a woman to trust him, and when he has her alone, he turns her into a punching bag, and then takes advantage of her."

I could feel Rodriguez tensing up behind me, probably putting together the questions I was asking with what I was planning on doing.

"All right, boys," I announced. "This is the best chance we're going to get to nail this guy. I'm going to try and convince him to leave the bar with me, and you guys will have to take him down as soon as we step outside. I know we haven't talked through a distraction, but we don't have time to do any real planning, or we risk him getting away, and from the look on his face, he isn't going to leave this bar alone."

"No way," Rodriguez spoke up. "If you want to lure him out, that's fine, but we need to wait until we can get you wired and organize a take down plan so you don't into a bad situation."

"We don't have time," I reiterated. "If he picks up someone else while we're strategizing, a woman is getting beaten and raped. There's no way I can go to sleep with that on my conscious."

"Your conscious is driving me crazy right now," he replied, clearly unhappy, but willing to work with me once he saw I was going to do it anyway.

There were three exits, which made it a little difficult to fully cover everything, since we were only a group of ten. Finally, Rodriguez took control and started handing out assignments. There were two guys at every door, and since we knew the bouncer at the front, they felt he would be helpful if it was called for, so I would try to head in that direction. Williams would go hang out at the bar now so he could listen to my conversation to be sure I wasn't in trouble right away, and Rodriguez would be my floater back up support person, who would try to follow us out and keep a visual in case something went wrong.

I did a quick run through of possible stories to use to get the guy to follow me out. Finally, I said, "After the guys leave, I'm going to act like I'm really pissed at you. Please don't take it personally."

He nodded, understanding the role I needed him to play. The guys all got up and left casually, leaving me sitting in Rodriguez's lap.

"I don't like this. I understand why you want to do it right now, but too many things can go wrong," he said quietly, his hands tightening on my hips.

"I'll be fine," I assured him, trying to convince myself at the same time.

And with that little pep talk, I jumped up and spun around to face him, pointing my finger in his face and saying as quietly as possible, "Don't let me out of your sight, and nothing can go wrong."

He stood up so fast, his chair fell over, and stood so close to me that his breath ruffled my hair. "He's watching us, so now is your chance. You'd better hit me hard enough to make it believable."

"I don't want to hit you," I told him, before spinning away to storm off toward the skip.

Rodriguez grabbed the elbow of my injured hand, and I spun back around and slapped him. I didn't do it too hard, but I knew what he was suggesting when he stopped me, so I gave it to him. His head twisted from the impact – and perhaps a little acting, as well – and he dropped my arm so I could leave.

I marched over to the bar and squeezed in between Williams and the skip, who turned to me immediately. "Trouble in paradise?"

"You have no idea," I replied with a 'Burg perfected eye roll. "Three weeks we've been going out, and because of this,"—I held up my brace—"he refuses to have sex with me."

The shocked look on the skip's face told me I was selling it well. "I'm all for chivalrous guys, but after a few weeks of going out, I was hoping for some action. I mean, I've got needs. Right now, I'm to the point of not caring who steps up, but somebody in this bar is going home with me tonight, and they are going to give it to me until I'm too tired to care when they slip out the back door."

He covered his surprised face with what I think he intended to be a suggestive smirk, as he said, "If you're looking for volunteers, I'll be glad to help you out."

I took my time looking him over and was proud of how well I contained my revulsion. "Don't step up if you aren't willing right this minute to follow through."

"Back room?" he asked, straightening up, indicating he wanted us to move now.

I shook my head no. "What I have in mind is more involved than just a quickie in a closet." I stopped and narrowed my eyes, before continuing, "My car, to my apartment, and you cover your own cab fare home." I guess that dominatrix training on Boston was still paying off.

"You got yourself a volunteer," he assured me, finishing off whatever dark liquor he was drinking straight. "Let's go."

"Follow me," I told him, stepping away from the bar and the safety of Williams. "My car's out front."

He took a couple of steps, and then put a hand on my arm to stop me. "I thought you were here with a group of guys."

"I was, but I didn't ride with them. They were co-workers of my boyfriend, so I met them here after work." I felt like my explanation was good enough, so I kept walking, and he followed me closely.

As we neared the door, he put a hand on my good arm, making me tense up. If this got ugly and he did something to me, I wouldn't have any hands left to take care of myself. I forced myself to picture the condition any other woman would be in if he picked them up tonight, and with that motivation, I kept going.

When we got to the front door, I stopped and pulled my hand, hoping he'd let go. "I can't get the door open with my brace," I explained.

"No problem, sweetness," he said with a cheesy smile, as he went first and opened the door for us both. Apparently, he had better sense than I'd hoped, as he didn't seem willing to let me go.

He walked outside, and I briefly panicked, as no one from RangeMan stepped out. I followed him into the dark parking lot, until he turned and asked, "Which way to your car?"

I pointed in the direction of the black SUVs we'd ridden in, wondering how dumb the skip was to ask about my car, when I clearly had no purse, license, or keys in my hand.

He pulled me in the direction I'd pointed, and as soon as we got past the bushes that lined the sidewalk and into the gravel of the lot itself, the two guys I'd been hoping to see stepped out and went through the standard "we're taking you in now" speech. He spun me around, as though using me as a human shield was the right move. Of course, this time, I was anticipating my stealth shadow, so I planted my feet just in time, and when the skip passed out and hit the ground, I didn't fall along with him.

The guys rolled him over, cuffed him, and worked together to haul him to the now waiting SUV before he came to and wondered where I'd gone. As soon as they pulled away, Rodriguez was cradling me against his chest, holding me tightly to him and out of the view of anyone going in or out of the club. It took a few minutes for the remaining team to gather around us, and Rodriguez took charge of the guys without lessening his hold on me.

He did a quick debrief, instructed Williams to call the control room and have them send someone to the station with the paperwork for the skip, and then told him to fill out the takedown report at RangeMan on the activity so we'd have a record. He also said that despite it being a successful capture, there were still some problems that we'd talk about tomorrow, so even if they weren't originally scheduled to be a part of that training at 1100, they were now de facto members of the distraction team, just because they happened to be out with us tonight.

With that, he announced we were through, and they could go back in and enjoy the night, except for Williams, who had no choice but to go back and record how we got his skip.

As the guys began to head back in, he looked down at me and asked what I wanted to do.

After the take down, I was definitely awake and alert, and the adrenaline was overriding my body's previous aches, so I smiled and said, "You promised me a dance."

He nodded and stepped back a little, making me miss the warmth of him so close. "You sure you can keep up?" he teased. "I mean, I've got some moves you may not have seen in Trenton."

I laughed, which I think was his intent, and started walking in. "I don't know... You did say it had been a while, so if you're throwing out disco steps, I might be in trouble, but otherwise, I think I can keep up."

He threw his arm around my shoulder, and as we walked side by side to the dance floor, the music switched from a fast Latin beat to a slow, sensual song, accompanied by the house lights going down, as well.

"I think this is just my style," he said, maneuvering us to the side of the dance floor and spinning me around, before pulling me to him.

I let him position my hands over his shoulders, and then he traced his fingertips down my bare arms and along shoulder blades, before stopping at my lower back a couple of inches below my hips, but above my ass. His fingers were spread, covering a lot of skin and setting a little fire at the points of contact.

It was the most natural thing to dance with him. My heels evened our heights, and our bodies found the music's rhythm, making it our own. He moved me where he wanted me to go, and my body followed his lead easily.

As the first song blended into a second, he pulled back and asked if I wanted to stop, or if I was ready for more.

"Bring it on, Rodriguez," I taunted him.

He smiled at first, but it fell a little, before he said, "When we're working or you're pissed, you can call me Rodriguez, but like this, it doesn't sound right." He accented his point by pulling our bodies even closer, eliminating all the distance between us and taking that little fire and turning the gas up to a full fledged inferno.

I tightened my hold on him, happy with the closeness, and agreed. "All right, Marco, I'm all yours."

My comment made him lose his rhythm for a fraction of a second. He quickly recovered and moved us into the crowd a little more, buying us some privacy from any curious co-workers that might be watching.

I ran the words I'd told him through my mind several times, wondering if I'd admitted to too much. By the time the song ended, I realized I may have been sent on this assignment to help him, but in the process, we'd helped each other. I was more relaxed and more the confident woman I'd always wanted to be when I was around him. Thank goodness I'd refused to let Ranger pay me more for this, because I was definitely getting as much out of it as my partner.

And even though I doubted he was thinking the same thing, for tonight, in the darkness of the dance floor, swayed by the music and driven by the drums, I shut my eyes and let him hold me.

In this moment, I _was_ his.


	16. Equipment Malfunction

_JE created the universe below that I'm using for my own enjoyment._

_Jenny (JenRar) you are such an encourager and a terrific beta. Getting feedback from you is the greatest form of motivation to keep me typing._

**Chapter 16 – Equipment Malfunction**

"You realize what you're asking me to do is impossible, right?" I asked my self-appointed coach.

Rodriguez gave me no pity at all, tightening his grip from behind and ordering, "Bullshit, Plum. You can, and you will, or we'll still be standing here tomorrow."

I took a deep breath and tried throwing my hip back into his to catch him off balance so that I could duck out of his arms. But every time I pushed back, he countered by tightening down and using me to steady himself.

"I can't do it!" I yelled at him, way past just feeling frustrated.

His warm breath hit my ear as he moved his hips tighter against my ass and said, "It's just like dancing. Last night, you had no trouble moving these hips to the rhythm, and I promise you, if you find the right angle, you can throw me off my stance and get yourself free." He moved my hands so that he was holding them both in one of his, and then moved his free hand to my hip.

I shut my eyes, trying to keep images of us dancing out of my head. I failed miserably, and he knew it.

"You can reflect on my smooth moves later. Right now, you need to get yourself out of this hold."

That snapped me out of my happy place and hooked just enough anger that I lifted my right foot and stomped down on his toes. I threw my hip back and slightly to the side, which made him step back and reflexively loosen his grip. Then a single elbow in the stomach bought me my freedom. I spun away and backed up in time to see him rub him hand over his rock solid abs.

"I see you like to improvise," he bit out, making me smile.

"Hey, all is fair in self defense training," I said, getting me a grin in return.

He turned serious once more to remind me, "That position is the one you have to master escaping from. It is the most common way for a perpetrator to try and use you as a human shield. If you can get yourself free, the guys can focus on taking down the skip. That's key down here, because I don't think they understand their primary goal is to protect you, and it's key in Trenton, because the guys there are so focused on protecting you, they'd let a skip walk if they had to in order to keep you safe. If you can better watch over yourself, the guys won't do something stupid because of an inability to divide their attention."

I nodded that I understood, and then words came out of my mouth that I hadn't planned on saying. "All right, let's try it again."

He grinned at me, as though I'd just offered him a brand new car. I refused to complain this time, and as a result of my determination, I was free in only two minutes. I still had a long way to go, but this was against someone the guys all seemed to refer to as some kind of fighting genius. Hopefully, an untrained skip would be a lot easier to get away from.

He taught me a few other easy tricks, and then informed me he was going to stay in the gym and run for a while. There were two treadmills side by side in front of a window, so I followed him over and set mine for a brisk walk. There was no reason to pretend that I was in good enough shape to run like he was. Hopefully, I'd get credit for not going straight back to my apartment and collapsing.

While he ran, he lost himself in his head, so I checked out of reality and thought back over last night and this morning. We'd stayed at the club until three o'clock, and by the time we got back, I was so exhausted, my legs were barely working. Rodriguez had kept his hands on me in some way from the time we left the club until he checked my apartment and deemed it safe to enter. Then he'd traced the side of my face with his finger. Such a simple touch shouldn't have made much difference, but it was both tender and erotic. The fact that I could feel him holding back had made me want to step up and demand he give me more, but in the end, he'd squeezed my good hand, and then said goodnight.

We'd come out of our apartments to head up to the eleven o'clock meeting on distractions and had walked up together. For the first time ever, when I'd popped the lid on the chocolate covered espresso beans and offered them to him, he'd accepted and reached in for a big handful.

"_Careful__," I warned him. "If I tell my mom you like these, she'll start sending you your very own box."_

_He __grinned, before__ tossing a few in his mouth. "It's been a long time since I went out," __he said in explanation of his__ need for the caffeine hit. "I plan on trying to straight-line some __coffee, too, just__ to give the impression of being awake."_

_We sat through the debrief on last night's take __down, and__ when Rodriguez pointed out all the things that could have gone __wrong and__ the simple things they could have done to prevent it, I couldn't see any traces of his previous exhaustion._

_I took them through the same intro to distractions __that I'd given to__ Boston, including a worst case __scenario, and__ was thrilled that this __time, it__ ended with Rodriguez suggesting we head down to the gym together until we regrouped at four o'clock for a planning session on the take down we hoped to pull off tonight._

_Instead of pounding a punching __bag, he__ spun around and said, "I think it's time to start working on your self-defense skills."_

I hadn't been able to think of a valid reason to refuse, so an hour later, I had a few new tricks to keep safe with.

Now, he was running beside me, and as I walked, I continued to let my mind wander. I was really happy with the working relationship between us, but everything else was beginning to confuse me.

When we started, he was so withdrawn, I figured just getting a one or two word acknowledgment was a huge step forward. We had gotten well past that point, and I found myself wanting to keep pushing for more, but not really having a professional reason to justify it. It was like he had a skill for disclosing just enough about himself to fill me with questions, without giving me enough to satisfy my hunger for all things Rodriguez.

I shook my head, realizing this was ridiculous. We were co-workers – nothing more. I needed to keep my head in the game of why I was in Miami and not waste so much time inventing things that weren't there. He was just a little rusty in his interpersonal skills and might be a little more touchy feely than I'd expected, but the truth was, I loved it when he touched me and always felt the loss when he took his hand away.

When the treadmill I was walking on suddenly stopped, I jerked my head around to see what had happened.

Rodriguez was smiling at me. "Were you trying to work up to walking back to Trenton, or do you usually go this long?"

I had no idea what he meant.

My confusion must have been apparent, because he explained, "We've been going for over an hour. I figured you might want time to shower and eat before we get started upstairs again."

Wow, I guess thinking about the man in front of me had so consumed me, I didn't realize how long I'd been going. I used to think there was no greater motivator than watching Ranger's ass in his running shorts, but I guess I was wrong about that.

.***.

"Charles Baker, age thirty-six, long term white collar criminal, has embezzled millions over the last few years, and with that money, he has gotten himself some top notch bodyguards that have made it nearly impossible to get access to him," Raoul explained, picking an ideal case for a distraction.

A young girl named Melanie was listening to every word and growing slightly green around the gills. I had to trust that the guys knew what they were doing in hiring her, but I couldn't see it working. Strangely, she looked a lot like me, which I didn't really see as a good thing. Other than hello, she'd barely spoken and wasn't following along in the file as Raoul talked us through the case and the plan they'd come up with for taking him down.

Because it was highly unlikely I would be able to get him to leave with me, we were only stationing guys at the front door. The real plan was to try and get him to follow me to the back room, where his guys could guard the door, and I could stun him as soon as we were alone. Then, RangeMan could enter through the window and pull Baker out to the waiting SUV before the guards at the door realized any noises they'd heard had nothing to do with their boss having a great time.

We talked about the possible holes in the plan, such as Baker wanting to go to a different room, or refusing to be separated from his bodyguards. Of course, I'd refuse to put out with an audience, but depending on his level of paranoia, that could keep our plan from working.

When we broke up, I had an hour to get ready before we thought he'd be at Illusions, his favorite after work wind down spot. According to our search, he spent at least two hours there every night, so the hope was, we'd offer him a night unlike any he'd had there before, and it would be too good to refuse.

I decided I couldn't go with typical slut wear, as I didn't want him to think I was too easy to be true. So I went with a slutty office worker, instead, and put on a black suit. The skirt had a slit nearly up to my panties, and I wore a see through blouse that gave a wonderful view of my Victoria's Secret miracle bra. I pulled my hair up, which took longer than anything else I did to get ready, since working with pins and only one good hand was frustrating as hell. Eventually, I got it mostly up, with a good number of curls falling down haphazardly. I decided to not get too worked up over it, as it gave the impression I'd been working all day.

There were less guys in the club than I would have liked, but since the plan was to come in after I'd taken him down, we didn't want to crowd the place with too many new faces that might tip him off.

Romeo was behind the bar when I walked in. As I slid onto the stool next to Baker's, I took off my jacket and laid it over my lap, affording him a view of the tight, nearly transparent shirt underneath.

"Gin and tonic," I ordered, giving Romeo an easy drink to fake, and smiled when he sat down a very believable glass of tonic over ice, with a lime on the edge.

I used the little straw to jab at the lime, and huffed twice before Baker leaned in and said, "Rough day at the office?"

I looked at him and could only see the people whose life savings he'd taken to satisfy his own greed. "You could say that," I told him, focusing my eyes on his lips while licking my own.

"Want to talk about it?" he offered, obviously buying the little show of interest on my part.

"I work in a law office." I gestured to my outfit and rolled my eyes, as though there were no other reason for me to be dressed that way.

"Today, my boss called me in his office and basically told me that I had two choices. Either I could begin dressing in a more professional manner, or I could use my afternoon breaks to show him why I felt the way I dressed was more appropriate for my position in the firm. The jerk was telling me I either needed to dress in the frumpy outfits the old women in the office wear, or I needed to have sex with him in the back room," I set up my story, stealing a glance at Romeo, whose eyes were twice as large as they had been when he made my drink.

"Did you quit?" Baker asked, bringing me back to the reason I was here.

"No, I called his bluff and agreed to meet him in the back room an hour later."

Now it was the skip's turn to look shocked, which was exactly what I wanted.

"I figured, my boss is pretty high powered, and there's nothing better during the day than some fast sex blended with an element of danger that you might be discovered," I explained.

"You're acting like it didn't work out the way you thought it would," he said, completely into what I was selling.

I laughed a little to set up the big finish. "Not hardly. He came in and locked the door, which was a little disappointing, but I could still work with that. I ripped my shirt open, and he pulled down his pants and started what turned to be a process of getting himself ready for sex. I'm not saying I'm the best looking woman in the world, or even sex walking, but I've never seen a guy have to work at getting it up when I woman is basically making his fantasy come true and laying herself out for him.

"I couldn't walk out in a huff, because I refuse to change the way I dress at work, but the longer it took him to finally produce something I could work with, the more I lost interest. So, forty-five minutes later, he's getting redressed after I had to lay there and endure his workout to the big finish. I've never been so disappointed in my life!" I added, trying to build up to why I was so frustrated.

"So tomorrow, what are you wearing?" he asked, trying to keep me talking.

"Something twice as slutty as this. I mean, for what it cost me to dress this way, I'm going to get the full effect," I told him, making sure he understood I wasn't going to be bossed around.

"It seems like you got what you wanted, so why are you so upset about it?" he took the bait.

"I'm frustrated because my boyfriend and I broke up a couple of weeks ago, and I had a perfect opportunity to release a little tension in a fantastic way, but Mr. Highpower wasn't able to deliver in the bedroom the same way he does in the boardroom. I mean, once a guy hits thirty, is he not able to just go into a dark room and give it to a woman fast and hard?" I asked, looking at Baker in a pointed way to let him know that question was directed at him, as well.

"Honey, I can't speak for your boss, but I can assure you there are plenty of men who are not only capable of doing it, but perfectly willing."

That was all I needed to hear.

I licked down the edge of my glass, as though some of my drink were dripping, before setting it down and glancing over my shoulder. Rodriguez was only a table away and met my eyes when I looked at him.

"There's a storage room at the end of the hall where the bathrooms are. It doesn't lock, but if someone were being taken against the door, it wouldn't matter. Any interest in finishing what my boss couldn't?" I was being a little more forward than usual, but I got the impression I needed to seal this deal quickly for it to work.

Baker glanced at the men sitting beside him and gave them a simple nod of his head. "Why don't you come with me and let me show you just how interested and able I am?"

I jumped off the stool and walked first, with Baker following me eagerly and his two men shadowing him silently. When I turned around near the room, I glanced at the guys, and then back to Baker. "I'm into all kinds of things, but an audience isn't one of them."

"They aren't coming in, but I don't go anywhere without someone to watch my back. They will secure the space before I'll go in, and then they'll be right outside the door while I'm in there. If that isn't acceptable, we can stop right here." Baker was clearly showing off, because his pants were tight enough to send the message he had no interest in stopping.

I stepped aside and pointed to the door. "Be my guest," I said, playing along.

The fastest security sweep ever occurred before the guy gave Baker a nod that we were clear.

As soon as Baker had shut the door behind us, I put my hand on my stun gun in the pocket of my jacket thrown over my arm.

"Lights on or off?" Baker asked.

"You decide," I said in a sex kitten voice.

When he turned around to kill the lights, I snuck up behind him, pressed the stun gun to his back, and hit the button.

Nothing happened. The room plunged into darkness when he hit the lights, and I pulled the stun gun out, realizing none of the lights were on. I had taken the one given to me by the chief of the armory, and I knew the power and charge lights were both green when he gave it to me. I quickly started hitting buttons, trying to get it to come on, but nothing happened.

The team wasn't going to come in the window until I told them Baker was down. I was in the dark room, alone with a decent sized guy who thought I wanted to have rough sex.

"All right, honey," he announced, alerting me that I was in trouble. "Where did you disappear off to? I thought you were right behind me."

At least he didn't realize why I'd been toughing his back earlier. "It's better if you have to work for it," I teased, stepping away from where I thought he was standing. "If I can turn you on, the charge will be that much better," I added cryptically, hoping someone would get the clue.

"I'm already charged and ready, so you don't need to give me any space to prep," he called out, his voice much closer than I'd hoped.

"So how do you want me?" I asked, hoping he'd keep talking so I could avoid him and get back to the door to escape.

"I want you exactly how you described it at the bar," he said, his voice losing the teasing edge it had earlier. He was getting pissed and tired of being toyed with.

I knocked over a box and swore at my inability to see in the dark room.

Baker used the noise to pinpoint my location and grab my arm. He was stronger than I gave him credit for, and he pushed me into a wall with enough force, I saw stars when my head hit. "I'm guessing this is part of the game of wanting to be taken hard and fast, so I'm through playing, and I'm going to give you exactly what you said you wanted."

As he spoke, I realized he already had his pants undone and was entirely too good at keeping my hands trapped and pushing my skirt up at the same time. When I'd run into the box, my hands had dropped the stun gun – not that it had been a help. So I was defenseless and quickly getting into a bad situation.

"This isn't going how it should," I said to the guys on the com unit. "I think I need some help."

Not realizing anyone else was listening, Baker interpreted my comments as willingness to keep going and laughed, "I'll be glad to help you out, honey."

With that, he pushed my skirt up, and in one economic movement, he ripped my panties off. I was completely exposed.

I took a deep breath to scream, but he put a hand over my mouth. "Don't make too much noise, or my men will assume something is wrong and come in. Unless you want company, you need to be quiet."

Company sounded pretty damn appealing right then, so I bit the finger closest to my teeth, surprising him enough to drop his hand. Before I could get a good breath again, he decided I needed to be taught a lesson, so he pulled back his fist and drove it into my cheek. The little stars I'd seen earlier had nothing on the firework display that caused, and I was temporarily out of it long enough for him to drop the hand that had hit me and move it between my legs.

I could hear noise in the hall and hoped it was someone who could help me, so I finally got a big enough breath to sustain the ear splitting scream I let loose. Baker hit me once more, and even in the dark, I could feel my vision fade out slightly. Before I lost it completely, the door was kicked open, literally tearing part of it from the hinges on the wall as it banged open, and a very pissed off Rodriguez came in, backed up by Raoul.

The guys outside decided now was the right time to approach the window, and I could hear them sliding it open and coming in from behind me, as well. Baker stepped back, as though the guys were there just to interrupt a rape, and started spouting some line about how I'd asked for it and he was just giving me what I wanted. The light from the hall was giving me enough to see by, and the expression on Rodriguez's face told me the skip was only making it worse for himself by talking.

He moved so fast, I couldn't track him, and the power with which his fist hit Baker's jaw was alarming. He was not in control and was driven by anger. I knew from the stories I'd heard that getting Rodriguez to back off wasn't going to be easy. Two blows later, Baker was on the floor and Rodriguez had one hand fisted into Baker's shirt holding him down, while the other continued to reign down blow after blow.

"Rodriguez," I said, stepping closer.

The guys started to step between us, probably thinking they needed to protect me from the scene on the floor, or the possible rage of the man I'd worked with so closely.

"Get out of my way," I commanded, not getting a response from the Miami team. "Damn it, you need to move so that I can get him back under control."

"You aren't going anywhere near him," one of them dared to tell me. Oh no, he didn't really think he was going to boss me around, did he?

I stepped quickly, slipped between the gap between their broad shoulders, and moved a foot away to yell, "Marco, stop!"

His arm froze in midair, as though even though his mind wasn't completely online, his body heard me and was willing to play along with my command.

"Let him go," I said with just as much heat. "You got him, and the guys can take over."

Rodriguez released his hold on Baker's shirt and looked down at the bloody mess in front of him, as though he were surprised to see it there.

They guys needed him to get up so their medic could check out the damage. They were all looking at me as though I had more magic words that would make him move.

"I need you," I finally said in a much quieter voice.

He didn't hesitate before crawling off of Baker's unconscious form and coming to me, walking the short distance on his knees to throw his hands around my waist. He pulled back briefly to tug my skirt back down completely, and then embraced me again with an even greater force.

"What happened?" he asked without lessening his hold.

"Equipment malfunction," I told him honestly. "That, plus I guess I sold what I wanted hard enough that he assumed that meant I wanted it even against my will."

"I heard you talking and figured you'd hit the wrong button, or something wasn't right, but when you said you needed help, I charged. The guys at the door took a minute to get down. But when you screamed, everything went red. I just…I couldn't…"

I tried what had worked the last time he got like this and ran my hand through his soft hair. It seemed to be comforting us both.

"You could have been raped," he finally said, voicing what we both knew to be true. I couldn't really argue against it.

"But I wasn't. You got here in time," I assured him. "I was fighting him in here, and you got to me before anything bad happened."

His head jerked to look up at me. "He hit you."

I nodded and kept stroking his hair while the guys worked around us to deal with the scene. "A couple of times, but I'll be okay."

We looked at each other silently for a few moments.

"How's your hand?" I asked, feeling some sort of draw to him that I didn't understand, especially not in this moment. I knew it was a rambling question, but the relief I felt when he barged in the room had shifted to something else, and I didn't know what.

I could feel his hand flexing behind me, but he didn't make a move to let me go. "I'm fine," he said, blowing off any concerns about his well being. "Are you all right? I mean, did he…was I too slow?" I'd already answered this question, but he needed to be assured again.

I shook my head, "He didn't rape me. If you hadn't gotten here within a minute or two, I think he might have, but I was giving him a little too much trouble to have easy access."

He shifted his gaze between each of my eyes, doing his little internal truth investigation, and then he slowly relaxed. "Shit, Stephanie, there has to be a better way to do this."

"I'm okay," I repeated, hoping I could keep myself together long enough for him to believe me.

Raoul came over, approaching us slowly. "You need some medical attention?"

I shook my head no. "I'll ice my face at the office. I'm okay."

Raoul took me at my word, which I appreciated much more than I could say, and told the guys to load Baker and head out.

Rodriguez stood up, keeping his arms around me. With our feet still planted in their spots, he leaned over and grabbed my jacket to help me put it on. It provided a little warmth, which I suddenly appreciated, even in Miami. Then he saw the faulty stun gun and picked it up, pressing the power button and shaking it, before calling out to Raoul. He tossed the gun through the air for the boss to catch and look at. The blank face that came over him at that moment told me I hadn't done anything wrong. It was just a fluke mechanical failure.

Rodriguez tightened his grip on me once more and said, "We understand that things can happen, but just so you know, there's nothing we can do to stop Trenton on this one."

"Wouldn't want you to," Raoul replied, looking between the two of us as we clung to each other. "I think it will take some serious time on the mats to get the sound of that scream out of my head."

He didn't give us a chance to respond, before walking out.

"I'm sorry I scared you," I said, feeling as though I had handled this distraction poorly, allowing myself to get into such a vulnerable position.

Marco put his fingers over my lips softly to stop me from speaking. "No, you don't get to apologize, because nothing here is on you."

We looked at each other, and I felt as though the distance between us was melting as his face was definitely drawing closer to mine.

Just before he entered the range of being close enough that one of us would have to tilt their face, Williams came in and said, "We've pulled up the truck for you guys to hop in."

We both snapped back, as though that voice had given us the ability to see what we were just about to do. I took a step backward, and Rodriguez let me go, only to take my good hand in his and lead me out of the club to the waiting vehicle.

Raoul was driving, with Williams riding shotgun. Rodriguez and I were in the back, both sitting toward the middle of the bench so that our legs and sides were touching. He kept my hand in his, resting it on his thigh and rubbing his thumb over mine without ceasing.

We were both focused on our joined hands, as though looking at them intertwined was somehow keeping us together for the ride back.

As we pulled into the garage, I started to relax, knowing we were safe and we'd made it through a very close call. As I allowed that realization to hit me, I could feel the crash I usually got after these kinds of distractions. I knew I was starting to shake, and I fought it as hard as I could, but there was no hiding it from Marco.

As soon as the SUV stopped, he ripped his door open and pulled me out on his side. He shifted hands so that his far hand was holding mine and the one closest to me was around my waist, supporting some of my weight. Without releasing my hand, he hit the call button on the elevator. As the doors closed to block us from the guys in the garage, he spoke softly, "Just let it run through you, and don't fight it. It will go faster if you give into it."

I could feel my teeth chattering by the time the elevator opened on four. "I've got you, Steph," he assured me, breaking down the last of my resistance.

Just as he opened the door, the tears started to fall. I figured someone with a history of backing away from people probably wouldn't appreciate a hysterical female, but once they started, the reality of just how close I'd come to being really hurt tonight hit me, and there was no stopping it.

I should have known better than to underestimate Rodriguez. He swooped down and lifted me easily, carrying me to the bathroom and setting me on the counter. I could feel the solid strength in his arms, and he pulled me to his chest once more, running his hands up and down my back, just letting me get out the panic, fear, and what ifs that I couldn't stop.

When I started to slow down my sobs, he squeezed me once more, and then pulled back and wiped the tears off my now puffy face. "Skip cooties?" he asked, showing off his amazing memory skills from our first distraction together.

It was what I needed to let a little laugh escape, and I nodded yes; they needed to go before I could do anything else.

"I'll work on the rest of what you need while you take your time in here."

I nodded that it was a good idea.

He backed up slowly, looking for any sign that I was going to fall apart again or call him back. When he reached the doorway, he stopped. "I'm not leaving tonight. You shouldn't be alone, and quite frankly, I think I'd lose my mind worrying about how you were if I went back to my apartment. I'll stay out of your way if you need that, but I can't leave you."

I let out a long breath and was overwhelmed with the relief that I wasn't going to have to spend the night alone.

I didn't think I said any words, but he responded to my thought. "You never have to spend the night alone," he said, before walking out.

Fortunately, he missed my impression of a fish out of water. What had he meant by that? I'd never have to spend a night alone, as in, he'd be glad to spend it with me, or there were plenty of other guys willing to babysit me if I was afraid after this? Damn, he was driving me crazy in so many different directions, I was struggling to keep up.

I realized I wasn't crying anymore, and as I showered, I wasn't reliving what Baker had attempted to do. I was rushing to get back out to the living room to see if I could get any more clues about what Rodriguez had meant.

It may have all been a part of his master plan of caring for me, but the idea of having company tonight got me through the part of my routine that usually took the most out of me. Freshly showered and in some yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, I walked out to see Rodriguez shutting the freezer door.

He turned around with a pint of Half Baked Ben and Jerry's and a smile.

Yeah, he was strong, didn't try to control me, he thought I had a great mind, understood when to push and when to back off, he could cook, and right then, he was holding my favorite flavor of ice cream, which I knew hadn't been in my freezer when I'd left tonight.

Hands down, my Marco was definitely the perfect man.


	17. A Day Off

_The world below is from JE. The confusion and cloudy plot is all my fault._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you once again for your work as the beta on this story. It's so much fun to write and send things to you with your instant feedback._

**Chapter 17 - A Day Off**

I woke up slowly, my brain coming on board one circuit at a time. The first thing I was able to deduce was that I wasn't in my bed, but on the sofa in the living room. The second thing my mind picked up on was that I wasn't alone.

There was a very warm and hard body behind me and a heavy arm draped over my side around my stomach. I wondered how I'd ended up on the couch, and then remembered I'd never gone to bed. We'd been watching movies and had stretched out, but that was my last memory. I guess once I got horizontal, I went to sleep. My right arm was asleep, and my eyes felt fused shut, no doubt still puffy from my crying jag in the bathroom.

I was torn between needing to get up and return proper circulation to all my extremities, wanting to stay put not only to hide from how horrible I no doubt looked, but to stay in this warm, comfortable place. I moved a little, unable to stay still once I started thinking about getting up.

Rodriguez tightened his grip on me and mumbled something that sounded like, "Not yet. Five more minutes."

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing at the thought that I wasn't the only person at RangeMan that didn't just bounce out of bed all alert and ready to take on the world.

It took a few seconds before his grip relaxed once more, and I assumed he'd drifted back off to sleep. I decided to try getting up slowly so that I didn't wake him again. I should have known how foolish that was, since I was serving as his personal teddy bear at the moment.

"Stop moving, or I'm cuffing you to the couch."

I have to assume the stress of last night and the exhaustion from the night before was why my internal editor decided to walk out of my brain. "Oh, do you promise?" I teased.

And what do you know, Rodriguez can go from fast asleep to wide awake and ready for action in the length of time it took to say four words. Marco pushed himself up on one arm and rolled me back so that I was looking up into his eyes to see him hovering over me. There was a wonderfully wicked smile on his face as he watched me for a few seconds, before replying, "I may be quiet, but I'm still a man of my word."

I backed down, not sure I was alert enough to banter with him at the moment. "I'm being very still," I announced, implying there was no need to whip out any hardware just yet.

He managed to push himself up and left me on the couch alone as he wandered into the kitchen. After hearing him rattling around in the cupboards, I realized he was fixing coffee. I smiled to myself. Waking up was so much easier if there was a delicious smell to motivate you.

He came back over the couch and lifted my feet, before sitting down and putting them in his lap. "Raoul called during the night and gave us both a direct order."

"Am I going to like this order?" I asked, never appreciating it when someone tried to boss me around.

He shrugged, as though he had no idea. "We are both to take the day off. Apparently, he doesn't want to see us on five at all, and said if he had to, he'd have our computer logins deactivated to keep us from trying to work from down here."

"Why can't we debrief and work some more with Melanie?" I wondered, not opposed to the day off, but not really liking the idea of it being forced on me, either.

"She quit," he explained simply. "I guess the reality of what could happen on a distraction was too clear last night, and she walked out, tendering her resignation effective immediately."

"Wow... I didn't mean to run her off, but if she is one to run that easily, I doubt she would have lasted anyway," I rationalized.

He nodded his agreement and let a hand rest on my left foot, rubbing it lightly enough that I wondered if he was even aware that he was doing it.

"So, if we aren't allowed to work on anything and we've already run through most of the movie collection in this apartment, what are we going to do today?" I asked, hoping he had some ideas to keep me from going stir crazy.

His eyes narrowed, like he was struggling to focus on something far away. "I think I'd like to try visiting my sister."

Before I could backtrack to let him know I was perfectly capable of finding some trouble on my own and he didn't need to change his plans because of me, he added, "But only if you'll go with me."

When he turned his head so that I could see his face fully, I was struck with the expression I saw there. He had no walls up. He was laying it out that he wanted to see his only relative, but was worried about what sort of reception he'd get and he didn't want to face that alone.

I sat up so he'd know how seriously I took his request. "Of course I'll go with you. I'd be honored to meet her."

He nodded, still looking a little unsure. "I thought we'd go after she's taken the boys to school and while her husband is at work, so we can talk to just her without the circus that is usually surrounding her."

"I don't mind confusion," I interjected. "I mean, have you heard the stories about the family dinners at my parents' house?"

He nodded and gave me a half smile. I got the feeling he needed to do this, but was bracing himself for it to be hard for some reason.

I put a hand on his arm and decided to try giving him the same assurance he offered that was such a comfort. "I'll be with you, and I'm not going anywhere."

We locked eyes, and he nodded, drawing a little strength from me. Realizing I had the ability to help him in this way made me feel like the strongest woman in the world.

Two hours later, we were parked on the street in front of a simple ranch style house in a neighborhood full of similar looking structures. There was a wreath, decorated with apples and a red gingham ribbon tied into a bow, hanging on the front door. The driveway held a mini-van that wasn't new, but was still in good condition.

We walked to the front door, hand in hand. Since last night, he hadn't really let me go, except for the brief period where we'd split up to shower and get dressed. Even then, when he returned for us to eat together, he'd taken my injured hand and rested it on his thigh while we ate side by side at the bar.

I wasn't sure if he was seeking reassurance that I was okay after last night, or strength for whatever he was going to face today, but no matter what he needed, I was determined to give it to him.

Standing on the little porch of his sister's house, he rang the door bell, and then warned me, "This might get a little loud."

Before I could ask what he meant, the door opened and a woman who was obviously his sister screamed, "Marky, why didn't you tell me you were in town?" She threw herself at him and hugged him, while lightly bouncing on her toes, clearly thrilled to see her big brother.

"Come on in!" She stepped back and motioned that we should follow her.

As we walked through the foyer into a large den, I leaned over and whispered, "Marky?"

He smiled and said, "Didn't I swear you to secrecy?" I shook my head no, causing him to tell me, "The only person that calls me that is my sister."

"Relax. I'm not going to tease you," I promised with a smile.

She came back around the corner, apparently not happy with how long it was taking us to walk such a short distance. "Marky, who is this?" She was looking at me with the biggest grin on her face, as though the fact that her brother had brought a girl to her house was the best present ever.

"Ah..." He paused and cleared his throat.

I had to fight down the urge to tell him how adorable I found his unease at the moment.

"Ana, this is Stephanie. Steph, this is my sister Ana."

With the formalities over, he sat down, as though the introductions alone exhausted him.

"What brings you by? Not that I mind – I love seeing you – but if I'd known you were here, I would have cooked dinner." She jumped up, as though something had jolted her. "Wait, I can still cook dinner. It's only eleven o'clock. You'll stay, won't you?"

If her children were even half as easily distracted as her, I totally got the whole circus comparison Marco had made this morning.

"Ana," he called a little louder to stop her tangent. "We can't stay for dinner, or even lunch. We are in the Miami office working on a special assignment, and since we had a really small window of free time, I convinced Stephanie to come by so I could see you."

She sat back down, clearly disappointed that she wouldn't get to keep her brother longer. But before that feeling sunk in too deeply, she focused on me again and said, "So, you two work together?"

Rodriguez seemed to be temporarily mute, so I spoke up. "Yes, we do. We're both in the Trenton office, but our boss sent us down here for a quick trip to train some of the staff."

"What do you do?" she asked, leaning forward to show how interested she was in my response.

"Well, I do much the same things Marco does," I replied.

"What happened to your face?" she asked bluntly, letting me know the makeup I'd so carefully put on this morning hadn't fooled her, and then added, "And your hand? My goodness, you're falling apart here. Marky, why aren't you taking better care of her?"

I could feel him tighten up at her criticism, so I jumped in, refusing to let anyone, even a sister, put any blame on him.

"Your brother is the reason I'm here at all. He absolutely saved me from a fate much worse than a few bruises and a brace." I knew I was blowing off my injuries, but she needed to understand the bigger point. "What we do isn't always safe, but when I work with your brother, I am better protected than anywhere else. None of this could have been prevented, but it could have been much worse if he hadn't been there."

She sat back, taking what I'd said in the way I intended it – not to criticize her, but to put it in the proper frame of reference. "I'm sorry. It's just that it's been so long since I've seen my brother, I'm feeling like the spastic little sister just trying to get his attention.

Marco looked between his sister and me and nodded as though he liked that little interaction. "Tell us about the boys," he suggested, before taking my hand once more and resting it on his leg.

She watched the movement, but jumped in and began regaling us with stories of her two sons. Every so often, she would compare them to Marco, as though she really wanted them to be like her brother in some way and any little similarity brought her such joy.

She rambled on, filling the silence easily, and when the clock on the mantel chimed that it was noon, Rodriguez squeezed my hand. I got the feeling he was trying to tell me something, but since my ESP wasn't standard issue, I was a little confused about what.

I looked between the siblings and decided to give them a few moments alone. "Ana, would you mind if I used your restroom?"

She jumped up and showed me to a well appointed room down the hall. I took my time, looking at her scented soap collection and glancing at what had to be the most anally organized linen closet I'd ever seen. Obviously, Ana was a happy woman, but I couldn't help but think she my mother would get along with the sense of order she seemed to maintain.

After taking as long as I could without it being suspicious, I opened the door quietly and tried to tiptoe back down the tiled hall.

In the den, I saw them standing, embracing, without talking. Marco's eyes suddenly opened and landed directly on me, making his face light up with a smile. He kissed his sister on the head and reminded her that we had to leave, but promised to come back at some point before we left for Trenton.

She walked us to the door and hugged her brother once more, before turning on me and pulling me just as tightly against her. She whispered in my ear, "Thank you for bringing him back."

I interrupted her from repeating the phrase after it became obvious it was becoming a mantra and told her, "He brought himself back. I was glad to be along for the ride."

She pulled back and wiped a tear from her eye quickly. "I hope you'll come back so that we can all get to know you a little better."

A quick glance to her brother made her smile, so I assumed he had confirmed I would accompany him if he returned. Strangely, I didn't mind being volunteered for another tour of his family.

We rode in silence for a while, which suited me fine after all the conversation at his sister's house. He pulled up to a hole in the wall restaurant that was more of a roof with seating under it. The tables were mismatched in color and style, but the smells as we drew closer were wonderful.

We sat at a bright red table, and I looked the menu, realizing I couldn't read a thing.

"Trust me?" he asked when the waitress came up.

I nodded that I did.

He spoke to her in Spanish, which was the first time I'd heard him use something other English. I was lost as soon as he said, "Hola." The cadence and the accent combined were sexy as hell, and I found myself staring at his mouth as it moved.

After the waitress left, he laughed. "What got you all dazed?"

I guess I was still foggy enough to answer him honestly. "I love hearing you speak in Spanish."

He laughed and asked if I understood what he'd said. I had to admit that I knew a little Italian from my Dad's side of the family, and I knew how to swear in Hungarian from Grandma Mazur, but I didn't know anything outside of that.

When the food began to arrive, I was thrilled that most of it seemed to be fried in some form or another. There were a few fruity type sauces to dip the various meats and breads into, and I couldn't help but express my appreciation for how good it tasted.

"I've got to remember to take you out more often. This is worth the price of admission," he said after a particularly tasty bite.

As I began to slow down the shoveling routine, I decided to push a little and see what he would share. "Why were you nervous about going to see your sister? She seemed thrilled to see you."

He popped a piece of potato in his mouth before answering. "I knew she'd be happy to see me, and I knew she'd see a difference from the last time she and I were together, but I didn't really want to have to explain it."

"Explain what – why you are better now, or why you were different before?" I wondered aloud.

"Either, but most importantly, why I withdrew for so long," he admitted, making my chest feel a little tighter with the knowledge that he'd shared with me those things that he didn't even want to disclose to his sister.

"I love my sister, but we are so very different. I've always felt like she adored her image of me without ever understanding who I really was. I mean, she romanticized the fact I was in the military, but refused to listen when I told her once that I'd killed somebody. She loves that I'm tough enough to take care of myself in nearly any circumstance, but she doesn't like to think about me doing anything other than working at a desk. I don't want to disillusion her, but to explain why I pulled out of life for so long would mean making her acknowledge some ugliness in the world that I don't think she believes is possible," he explained.

I totally understood where he was coming from, so I didn't ask anymore questions about that. We started talking about our families, and spent the next hour swapping stories and realizing how much we had in common.

"Let's ride to one of my favorite places," he offered.

I was up for anything, loving the time with Marco while his guard was down like this. Thirty minutes later, he was standing behind me at the very end of a strangely empty pier, a fishing pole in my hand and his hands over mine.

"Pull back, hold the lever while you flip the rod tip, and then release the button once you're ready to stop the line." As he instructed, he moved my arms the way he described, until the lure with the small piece of cut up fish as bait flew into the water. "Now reel it in slowly," he instructed from his vantage point behind me.

We repeated the lesson, cast after cast, until I was convinced I could do it on my own, even though he didn't release me and give me a chance to try. He did take one hand off mine to put it on my hip, but he helped me hold the rod with the other hand.

I'd always wondered why people enjoyed fishing, especially if you did it for so long without catching anything. Before I could make a comment about how only extreme optimists would take this up as a hobby, Rodriguez started to talk.

"When everything went to hell in a handbasket after Bull died, I was pretty lost. I mean, I went on my mission, came back stateside and followed orders just like the good soldier I was trained to be. But when I didn't have someone telling me what to do, I floated. I was in no shape at all for a relationship, but my brain told me that a connection with a woman would be a good thing when I got back to the States, so I started going to clubs that catered to people with different fetishes. I couldn't commit, I couldn't love, I certainly couldn't do any kind of real intimacy, but I needed to feel like I was connecting with people on some level.

"When I got into the Dom/sub scene, it was the perfect solution. I could be in complete control, get off on giving the orders instead of following them for a while, and walk away feeling like I'd connected in some way. But after working it for a couple of years, I realized when I walked away each time, I felt more and more hollow. I think the right couple can made a Dom/sub relationship exciting as hell, but I knew at heart, it wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to control every element of sex like that, and yet, I knew I wasn't capable of giving up the control to someone else. In order to keep myself together, I had to stay alert and in charge. And to have the kind of trust you need to make that kind of sex work, you have to get to know the person, at least on some level, and I just wasn't capable of that.

"I tried for something normal a few times, but it was impossible. Most women freak out if you have to stop to shelve your weapons during foreplay, so I gave up after a while. Then, as I withdrew from everything, even RangeMan, it was easier to just lock out all kinds of interaction and not think about what I was missing."

When he stopped talking, I wondered why he was telling me all this. "You want to know why I'm sharing?" he asked, as though he'd gotten my sidebar thought completely.

"Yes," I admitted. "I mean, I love learning about you, but I'm curious as to why you're opening up about this now."

"Because you didn't push it. You made a joke out of it, and I know how your mind works, so I'm guessing you've had plenty of spare time trying to figure out how I could be a Dominant coach and a recluse at the same time," he explained, accurately summing up my thoughts.

"Do you wish I'd kept that little piece of my history to myself?" he asked, sounding vulnerable enough that I wished I could see his face to read him better.

"No," I quickly told him. "I want it all. Your past, your present, your future – everything." I shivered a little at how that sounded. I didn't completely understand what was going on between us, but I knew that I liked it. It made me feel comfortable and treasured at the same time, and I knew that I trusted him completely, so if he began to shift our path, I was okay with wherever he led.

He took the rod and slid it into a piece of PVC piping attached to the pier. I'd wondered what that was for and smiled at him solving the mystery.

Once my hands were free, he spun me around and tucked some hair, which the wind seemed intent on blowing wildly, behind my ear. "Until three weeks ago, I didn't think I had a future."

I drew in a quick breath, worried that he was admitting to what I thought had most concerned Bobby.

"I had a past that I hid from, I refused to engage in the present, and the future was terrifying as hell, because I could only see a couple of different paths, and neither of them was all that great."

"What about now?" I asked, wanting to get him away from the place where things seemed so bleak.

He looked down at his hands and brought them up slowly. I watched them, as well, wondering if the answer to my question somehow lay in his palms. After lifting them, he framed my face with his long fingers softly. "Now, I find I'm focused on the future in a way I don't know what to do. The present is constantly surprising me in ways that I love, and the past still has some horrible memories, but they don't paralyze me like they used to. I was convinced if anyone knew what I'd been through, they would easily blow me off as unworthy. I think there was a small piece of me that originally opened up to you as a test. Just to see if you'd toss me aside once you learned the truth of who I was."

I tried to shake my head no, but his hands prevented much movement. "I'd never toss you aside," I said quietly, having to rely on words instead.

"Why? Why do you look at me and see anything other than a broken man?" he asked, pleading with his eyes for an answer.

I put my hands on top of his. "Because I see you for you are. You've been dealt a hand worse than most, but it hasn't broken you. And I've been through times when I was sure what would come out on the other side would make me worthless in everyone else's eyes, so I know that feeling."

"What feeling?" he asked, as though trying to be sure we really understood each other.

"The one where your biggest fear is that someone will see you like you see yourself, and they'll agree that all the shit you've been through is entirely your fault. So you hide, figuring having no one know the real you is better than finding out all your worst fears are coming true," I explained.

"Damn," he whispered against the wind. "You get it, don't you?"

I squeezed with my hands to assure him I did.

"But you're…" I felt like he wanted to compliment me and was struggling to find the right word.

"I'm broken, just like you. I hide it, just like you. It's just that instead of pulling away from people I surround myself with them and hide behind a persona that everyone assumes is the real me," I corrected him.

Now it was his turn to shake his head no. "I can see that, but I've seen the real you, and you're beautiful."

I felt a single tear drop from my eye and creep down my cheek. I had no words.

I expected him to wipe it away with his thumb, but instead, he said, "I didn't mean to make you sad."

"I'm not sad," I corrected him. "I'm…overwhelmed." Being with him like this, with the physical contact, the closeness, the lack of walls, and the open sharing, was about as close to heaven as I could imagine. But to have him like this, implying that I was somehow beautiful, was more than I could process.

When the tear stopped at the crest of my cheek, he leaned down slowly. Holding my face between his hands, he didn't want me to move, so I stood still and watched as his lips touched my cheek and kissed away the tear that had stopped there. He lingered longer than necessary, but I was in no hurry to have him pull back.

When he did shift again, it was move his hands from my face to my shoulders to pull me to him. He rested his face against the side of my head and hugged me tightly to him. "You're so beautiful," he repeated.

Without warning, he pulled back, gripping my shoulders, and said, "You're gorgeous, too. I mean, you are one good looking woman, but that's not what I mean when I call you beautiful."

He must have seen my confusion, because he lifted one hand and touched over my heart with the backs of his knuckles. "In here, you're gentle and warm, and accepting, and…beautiful."

Damn, leaking eyes. Another tear slipped out, following the path of the last one. He bent back down and kissed it away, as well, lingering long after the moisture was gone.

"Can I take you to dinner?" he surprised me by asking, his face still touching mine.

"Sure, but I'm not dressed," I pointed out, looking down at the slip on casual dress and sandals I was wearing.

He pulled back a little to better see my face. "You're perfect."

He reeled in the fishing line, and we took it back to the old man at the pier house. As we walked down the pier, I felt all the familiar emotions swirling around in me. When things seemed too good to be true, they usually were, so I was afraid of getting my hopes up and thinking that maybe he was trying to figure out what this was between us, as well. Maybe what I'd been interpreting as just friendly contact meant more to him than I'd assumed. I wanted to believe it did, but I'd been hurt too many times in the past by thinking I understood a guy and what he wanted, just to be disappointed.

As we approached the truck we'd taken from RangeMan for the day, he opened my door and lifted me into the passenger seat without backing away. With his hands on my hips, he held me in place to get my attention.

"I'm not an easy man," he started. I was going to interrupt but he made a gesture letting me know he needed to finish. "But there are a few things you need to know and believe about me. I would say nothing before I'd ever lie to you, I consider loyalty to be the highest form of honor, and I'd rather sacrifice my own life than live with the thought of hurting you. I don't know what this is between us, but no matter what does or doesn't happen, those three things you can bank on."

I reached up and touched his face, mirroring the way he'd held my face on the pier. "Thank you," I told him softly. I didn't have the greatest track record with men, but I trusted him when he said those things about himself, and in my heart, I knew they were just as true about me, which made it easier to accept from him.

He took my hand from his face and turned to place a kiss right on the palm, never taking his eyes from mine. He stepped back and shut the door, before walking around to climb into the truck.

I realized then I was in big trouble here.

Technically, we hadn't kissed or spoken of any real feelings for each other, and yet, I already felt closer to him than anyone else. I realized he had completely opened himself up to me in a way that I wanted to reciprocate. I wanted to let him take care of me, all the while defending him against anyone who would dare to attack. I wanted it all, and with no doubt whatsoever, I knew I wanted it all with Marco.

He turned on the truck and looked over at me with a smile. "Ready?" he asked a loaded question simply.

Surprisingly, without hesitation, I answered more than just his obvious inquiry. "Absolutely."


	18. Coming to Terms

_The Plum world below is from JE's creative mind, not mine._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you so much for your eager pleas for more, and your fast work as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 18 – Coming to Terms**

"Why a hamster?" Marco asked, throwing out another random question like we'd been doing for the last two hours.

We'd spent the afternoon together, eaten dinner at a casual seafood place, and then walked on the beach until the moon was high in the sky and Rodriguez suggested we sit for a while. He'd found a nice spot that seemed secluded enough to afford us some privacy, mounded up some sand for a makeshift recliner, and sat down, before patting the sand between his legs, indicating I should lean against him, which I happily did.

I don't know if it was the darkness, or the closeness, or just the magic of the moon, but we'd been throwing out questions covering everything from politics to embarrassing moments and answering everything. I couldn't remember a time when I felt as comfortable around someone as I did right now.

Morelli had never tried getting to know me, relying on our shared history to inform him about my preferences. Ranger loved to learn about me, but he would only answer my questions about him so much before he'd clam up and change the subject. Plus, Ranger was so intense that the few times I was around him when his guard was totally down, I was a little on edge, almost nervous about what might happen.

Right now, I was relaxed and completely oblivious to the world outside the legs I was sitting between and tracing patterns on with my right hand.

Marco squeezed my shoulder as a prompt, and I gave him the story of Rex and how he'd come into my life. "I needed to prove to myself I was capable of caring for something. After my divorce from Dickie, I was convinced I'd never have another man in my life, so I decided to try for a pet that wouldn't talk back and would love me unconditionally. My building doesn't allow dogs, a cat just seemed too prophetic of me becoming an old maid, and I was a little scared of a bird getting loose and flying away. Fish tend to go belly up for no good reason, so that really only left hamsters. The pet store had four to choose from, and when the clerk opened the cage, I dropped a large cookie crumb in, and only one hamster made a dash for it, while the other three ran away. I figured even if I couldn't train him to do tricks, the fact that he liked to eat and was willing to face down his fear for a cookie made him the perfect choice for me."

I could feel Marco's chest shaking a little, probably laughing at my test of compatibility.

"Don't laugh – I'm not entirely sure we'd be sitting here now if you hadn't given in and taken that tin of cookies my mom made for you."

"What does she put in those things? I had one and figured I'd give the rest to the guys in Boston, but I couldn't stop popping them in my mouth once I got started. By the second day, they were all gone, and I was getting itchy in my apartment that night without a bite-sized snack to munch on," he confessed.

"She says it's because they're baked with love, but I'm pretty sure it's because she doesn't use vanilla flavoring, but substitutes Bourbon, instead," I said, offering my theory for why I couldn't stop eating them once I started.

"Aren't you due another package?" he hinted.

"I might have heard her mention overnighting a box yesterday," I replied coolly.

"So we should have something today?" he asked.

"What's this 'we' business? I'm pretty sure the box will have my name on it. My mother, my care package, my cookies!" I ranted with a smile.

Marco pushed my hair back so his chin could rest on my shoulder next to my face and dropped his voice a little to say, "Isn't there anything I could do to convince you to share? I'd be willing to work for you and get paid in cookies."

I leaned my head back, giving him access to my neck and praying he'd take advantage of it. He turned his face toward me and slowly moved a finger from my shoulder to my ear, causing me to shiver at the light contact.

I felt his warm breath on my skin, before he said, "Steph, I want to do this right; I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated. But after being away from people for a while, I feel like making up for lost time and focusing on you completely – obsessively."

"You're doing a great job," I assured him, "but I'm not some special princess that needs to be handled carefully. You don't have to hold back."

He let out the sexiest moan I'd ever heard. I'd heard the guys complain about the sounds I made making it difficult for them to concentrate on anything else, and now I got what they meant. I'd do just about anything to hear him make that sound again.

Marco moved his hands under my arms to rest them over my stomach, holding me tightly enough to feel protected, but loosely enough that I didn't feel tied down. I'd never thought about it before, but he seemed to know how to walk that fine line in a lot of ways – trying to keep me safe, while encouraging me to use my skills and do what I thought was best. I let out a sigh of contentment, thinking of how easy it was to be with him here.

Then I thought of tomorrow and wondered if being surrounded by sunlight would make it awkward. He felt me tense up and shook his head. "Tomorrow, we'll still be us. It's only awkward if we make it that way."

"Do you read minds?" I asked, positive I hadn't spoken aloud this time.

"No," he replied. "But I had been thinking about what it would be like to see you in the staff meeting tomorrow, and wondered if you would be as open then as you are now, when I felt you start to tighten up."

I thought about his question and felt like he deserved an answer. "I don't know if we can recreate this in a conference room."

"I doubt Raoul would let us sit this way anyway," he agreed.

"But... I'd like to think I'd answer any question you asked me, even if I couldn't hide under the stars. I think this safe place is more a frame of mind than a state of geography, so if the two of us were alone at a bar, or in the truck, or in the office, I think we'd be comfortable," I hoped.

We sat in silence for what might have been minutes or hours, until the tide began to encroach on our spot and forced us to either get up or get wet. Personally, I'd have been okay with getting wet just to stay with him, but when he suggested we move, I didn't argue.

We brushed off the sand and walked hand in hand back to the truck. The ride was quiet as I thought about how much I missed our beach conversation already. Marco had been opening up to me more and more every day, but each morning would begin with him closed up more than he had been the night before. We were making progress because he wasn't as closed off, and it didn't take me as long to break back in each morning, but if he was distant tomorrow, it was going to hurt after what we'd shared tonight.

We parked in the garage, but he made no move to get out. I waited, assuming he needed to say something based on the expression on his face.

"Will you tell me what the deal is between you and Ranger?" he asked, not looking at me.

I let out a long breath. "Can I give you the short version?" I asked. "It's complicated."

"If that's the short version, you're going to have to go with the extended release, because that doesn't help me any," he quickly added.

I turned a little in the seat to better see his face while I told him about my past with our boss. "Ranger was the first guy to let me do what I wanted to without telling me I'd fail. He has offered me nothing but unconditional support since the day I met him – well, since the day after that, really. I think when I first met him, he thought I was a bit of a joke, but I won him over quickly enough."

Rodriguez nodded with a half smile, as though he understood the sentiment. "Anyway, I was with Joe, but there was no denying that there was some sort of attraction between Ranger and me. We'd sneak kisses in the alley behind the bonds office, and he'd break into my apartment from time to time to visit or check up on me when he thought I was sleeping."

I saw his knuckles turning white from his hard grip on the steering wheel, so I knew I needed to explain quickly. "But Ranger has a strict no relationship rule. And even though I think he cares more for me than any other woman, he will not let me in past where I am. I could call on him night or day and depend on the fact he'd come running, but if I ask him to tell me his most embarrassing moment in high school, he'd give me a blank face and change the subject. He's like a guardian angel of sorts that watches over me but keeps himself at a certain distance. I told him that once, and he laughed, saying he was more of a fallen angel than anything heavenly, but I refuse to let that change my opinion of him."

"So the two of you aren't a couple?" he asked, but he said it as more of a statement.

"We are not now, nor have we ever been a couple. He's been a friend, probably my closest one, for a few years now, but it will never go past that because of his insistence that it can't," I said, giving him all I really knew to say about my relationship with Ranger.

His hands dropped from the steering wheel to his lap.

"Why do you ask?" I wondered what made him bring this up now.

Rodriguez pointed to a car in the corner of the garage, nearest the elevator. It was a black Porsche 911, and I had to assume, since it hadn't been there at any other point of our stay, that it meant Ranger was in Miami. "I just needed to know if I had to make myself scarce now that he was here, or if what I thought was happening was real."

"If you think so little of me after all we just talked about on the beach, then you _can_ make yourself scarce," I huffed.

He twisted quickly to face me in the truck and put a hand on my thigh. "I'm sorry, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've tried a few times to step back into society around the guys, and each time, the door was slammed in my face – probably inadvertently – but still, I learned that people like me need to stay on the fringes. It's a hard lesson to unlearn."

I melted instantly and covered his hand with my own. "Let me tell you a little something, in case you haven't put the clues together about me. I'm loyal to a fault, I don't lie very well, so I try not to do it all, and there is nothing that I despise more than having my trust shredded, because I've been through it too many times. I don't know what the guys did or didn't do, but if you think just because Ranger's around that I'm going to suddenly throw you to the curb to be around him, you don't know me very well. I think you need to stick close to me so that you can learn to trust me and know that I'm not slamming any doors here. You'll have to accept that he and I are close and trust me when I tell you nothing is going on between us. If you can do that, then you can believe me when I say that I want you."

He took his time looking at me after my little speech, and I felt like he was looking for any loophole that I might try to throw at him later.

"No catches, no conditions," I assured him. "I want you."

"I don't deserve you," he replied, as though that might impact me.

"I don't deserve you, either," I argued. "I don't think we can earn the privilege of being with someone who accepts us for who we are. We just have to trust when they say it that it's true."

"You are really one smart cookie," he said, as though he were temporarily giving up.

"You're just saying that as a gentle reminder that I may have a package from home and you want in on the goods," I teased, getting a smile as agreement.

We went up to five to check in with the control room and see if there was a package waiting for me. Sure enough, Mom didn't disappoint, and Rodriguez gallantly offered to carry it for me, using that school boy smile when he said it was to help me keep the weight off my wrist.

I heard some of the guys gathered around a cubicle, making comments as though they were watching a boxing match, so I angled my head in their direction to let Rodriguez know I wanted to see what had them so excited.

"What are you guys doing?" I asked, trying to hold back my laughter as they turned around, looking guilty as soon as they saw who'd caught them.

I couldn't miss the none too subtle shifting to cover up the monitor behind them, either. "What are you watching?" I asked again, moving to get a better look.

"I thought you were supposed to be off the floor all day, per Raoul's orders," Romeo said, moving to block my view once more.

Glancing at my watch, I saw it was after midnight. "I was; it's Thursday, so my day off is over, giving me the right to work on anything I want to. Now move," I demanded, surprised when the guys actually gave me what I wanted.

When they split and I could focus on the black and white security feed on the screen in front of me, I saw a very exhausted and beaten looking Raoul being tossed around by a focused and pissed off looking Ranger.

"How long has this been going on?" I demanded.

"Since Ranger pulled up, a little over an hour ago," Romeo admitted.

"Why haven't you stopped them?" I asked, dumbfounded that they were still sparring.

"If anybody tries to call them off each other, they'll risk getting called to the mats next. It's best to just let it run its course and stay clear 'til it's over," he offered.

I threw my hands up in the air and turned to go downstairs, mumbling, "I work with a bunch of children."

Marco was hot on my heels. "You can't interrupt this. Calling someone to the mats is how Ranger disciplines staff. He'll stop when he thinks the lesson has been learned and not a moment before. But you could get hurt trying to get between them."

I spun around to face him just outside the gym doors. "You need to accept that I often act impulsively, but I would never rush into danger if I wasn't sure that I wouldn't get hurt. Someone needs to stop this, and I'm probably the only person that can. You can come along to watch over me if you want to, but you aren't stopping me."

"Shit," Marco replied under his breath, before swinging the door open and stepping aside to let me in. "You age a man; you really do."

That was the best I could hope for, so I walked in without further comment. Raoul looked like he was just one more upper cut away from unconsciousness, and Ranger looked determined to fit as many blows in as possible before taking his brother out of his misery.

I went to the edge of the ring and yelled out, "Stop it!"

The brothers both looked my way, before Ranger waved a hand in my direction, hinting I needed to leave them alone. Of course, I'd never taken direction well, so I climbed up and stepped in the ring between them with my arms stretched out to keep them apart.

"I'm pretty sure Raoul has learned whatever lesson you were trying to beat into him."

Ranger looked around me at his brother and said, "Not yet. He's still standing."

"You've made your point," I pushed, focusing only on Ranger now.

"You could have been raped or killed last night. I'm nowhere near making my point," Ranger raised his voice to assert.

"Let him finish it," Raoul panted out from behind me. "He's right."

"Then tell me how exactly he could have prevented what happened," I continued on, refusing to move.

"RangeMan equipment doesn't fail, because we test it regularly, and we exercise extra care in prepping the equipment before going into a life or death situation," Ranger explained, taking a step to the side to keep his brother in his sight.

I turned to Raoul. "Was the stun gun not tested?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Equipment guy didn't check it before bringing it up when I requested it. I didn't verify it worked before giving it to you."

"Are you putting in a different policy for handing out equipment like this from now on?" I questioned.

Raoul nodded. "Already have, and the equipment guy is in the infirmary, resting off his trip to the mats with me from earlier today. But this," he said, moving his finger between himself and Ranger, "this is only fair for me to get what I have coming to me for my part."

"This is ridiculous," I argued. "The lesson's been learned. Any more is just overkill."

"Babe," Ranger said, trying to reason with me to get me out of the ring.

I stopped him. "No! Don't try and explain this to me. You were worried that something could have happened to me, so you're trying to find someone to blame so that you can ease your conscience about me getting hurt while on the RangeMan clock."

"That's not it," he argued, attempting to refute what I was saying.

Raoul jumped in before Ranger could get a sentence out. "Your scream…Every time I shut my eyes last night to go to sleep, I could only hear your scream. On my watch, you were seconds away from the kind of injury women don't just bounce back from. I called my brother. I asked him to help me get that sound out of my head. The first few minutes were about teaching me a lesson, but after that, it's been giving me what I asked for."

"This isn't going to get the sound out of your head," I tried to tell him.

"We're soldiers. We don't go to priests for the sins in battle, but we still need absolution," Raoul explained. "This is our confessional."

"Good analogy, wrong metaphoric terms," I interrupted, getting a confused stare from both brothers.

I walked right up to Raoul, who was doubled over with his hands on his knees, probably still standing only because of that balancing measure. I put my hand on his sweat drenched cheek.

"You want to confess how you feel about what could have happened last night? You tell me. It would have happened to me. It was my scream, my call for help that haunts you. I don't hold you responsible, and I won't let you carry the burden of what could have been on your shoulders."

He began to shake his head, resisting what I was saying, so I cupped his face and turned it upward to force him to look at me. "I'm okay. You responded as soon as I sounded the alarm, and because of that, I was saved. You'll never be relaxed about contingency planning for another distraction, and that is your penance. But getting the shit beat out of you by your little brother isn't going to do it. Listen to me, and believe me. I'm the only one that can tell you what happened in that room. I. Am. Okay."

Raoul took a shaky breath. "All right…" He looked over to Ranger and said, "Mercy."

Ranger let out a long deep breath and nodded. His shoulders dropped, and he moved to lean into the corner.

"Better?" I asked, still not sure if I could trust them to start up again after I left.

He paused before answering, but finally admitted, "I will be."

That was good enough for me, so I kissed the top of his wet hair and climbed out of the ring.

"Babe," Ranger called out to stop me. "Want to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"What time?" I was always willing to eat, but I needed to handle time alone with Ranger carefully in light of what I'd promised Rodriguez in the garage.

"Eleven," he tossed out.

I winced, thinking through my day. "I've got the staff meeting in the morning, I'm pretty sure if Raoul can manage it, we will need to discuss hiring a new distraction person, and then I've got self-defense training after that with Rodriguez." I turned around to confirm that with Marco, and he nodded that he was up for it.

"How about the three of us go after you're done with your time in the gym," Ranger offered.

I glanced back at Marco, and he nodded at our boss, accepting on our behalf.

Ranger shook his head and said, "Damn, I never thought I'd see the day that I'd work my schedule around your gym time."

"What can I say," I replied, beginning to walk away. "It's the new me."

"What if I liked the old you?" Ranger called out just before we got to the door.

I glanced over my shoulder. "She's still in there, but she's not taking any shit," I explained with a grin.

"Babe," he replied, as though he liked my response, or at the very least, respected the attitude that presented it.

We walked up to the fourth floor with Rodriguez still carrying the box from Trenton. He set it on the bar and cut it open without asking, but I noticed he didn't lift the flaps and poke his nose in where it didn't belong.

I stepped beside him and ripped the lid up, revealing one large tin that we both knew was filled with my mother's chocolate chip pieces of Heaven. On the top was a post-it that said simply, _Share!_

I picked it up and lifted the lid, inhaling the smell of home, which made me smile right away.

"Thanks for including me downstairs. You didn't have to do that – I mean, I trust you. I know where things stand between you and Ranger, and you didn't have to coerce him into taking me to lunch, too," Marco said, while holding a cookie, but not popping it in to follow my example.

There wasn't a way for me to tell him what that statement of faith meant to me. To know that he trusted me, that he appreciated the way I'd included him in the conversation. And here he was, standing in front of me looking so vulnerable, focused on that cookie as though it held all the answers of the universe.

I took the cookie from his hand to get his attention and said, "I didn't coerce Ranger into doing anything. You know him well enough to know that isn't possible. I'm thinking he sees it as a chance to get the real scoop on how this assignment is going and to be sure Miami really did everything they were supposed to in the distraction."

Marco shook his head and spoke softly. "I can't believe you did that. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes, but I still don't believe it."

I didn't know what he was talking about, so I waited, hoping for a clue of some sort. When he looked up, I saw his blank face, which made me panic briefly. What would he have to hide from me?

Then the corner of his mouth tightened, and I realized he was playing me for something. "What can't you believe I did?"

Completely serious, he responded, "You stood right there in front of me, distracting me with your logic and common sense, and then you…snatched the cookie right out of my hand."

I took a couple of steps back to be out of his reach and held up the little bite-sized morsel that had been hidden in my palm. "You mean this cookie, right here?"

His whole face split into a smile. "You little thief," he accused, before lunging toward me.

I took a chance and darted away into the living room, putting him on the opposite side of the sofa from me. "I didn't steal it. Mom said to share, and there are plenty of other ones in there for you."

"But I wanted that one," he teased, planting a hand on the back of the couch and making me freeze, not wanting to move until he did, so I could go the opposite direction.

We had a brief stare off, before I decided to take it up another notch. I slowly moved the cookie to my face, before placing it on my tongue and sliding my tongue into my mouth so he could see my lips close behind it. Then I pulled the tiger's tail a little more and let out a sound of appreciation.

"Hmmmm."

In a move so smooth I couldn't react at all, Marco leapt over the sofa and grabbed me around the arms, pulling me to his chest to keep me from escaping. "You ate my cookie."

"And it was delicious," I couldn't help but add.

"There's a price to pay for taking things that don't belong to you," he threatened.

"Put it on my tab," I replied, trying to act totally unaffected by his threat.

"I think the price is too high to bill. You're going to have to cover it now," he retorted.

"What are the terms?" I asked, completely interested in what he wanted from me and realizing I would probably give him anything he named. Being this close to him when he was so playful and lighthearted made him absolutely irresistible.

He pretended to consider the question, before moving his hands to rest on my hips, releasing my arms so that I could move. "I think you can work it off in trade with some—" before he finished talking, he jerked his hands up to my ribs and dug into my side tickling me mercilessly "—hysterical laughter."

I screamed, laughed, flung my body around, and tried to get his hands off what I referred to as the tickle ridge on my sides. Eventually, my flailing around knocked him back on the couch, and he pulled me down with him. As soon as we hit the sofa, he pulled me up to spoon in front of him and stroked my hair with his free hand.

I took a long breath, trying to calm myself from his sudden attack, and relaxed against him. It was soothing and comforting, and exactly where I wanted to be.

He broke the silence first and said, "This is what I want – hours and hours of just this."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. Those were terms I could definitely live with.


	19. Worth the Wait

_JE created the world below that I have taken for my own amusement._

_Jenny (JenRar), world's greatest beta, thank you for the time you've spent sorting out the rambling chapters I sent your way._

**Chapter 19 – Worth the Wait**

Seeing Ranger in Miami was a lot like watching Rodriguez transform here. He was more relaxed – hell, his shirttail wasn't even tucked in – and he laughed at jokes instead of keeping his blank face on. It was wonderful, and a little unnerving at the same time.

Stranger still was listening to Ranger, Raoul, and Marco getting lost in their own little remembrances of growing up in the same neighborhood. I would always think of myself as a Jersey girl first and foremost, but seeing this different side of the guys here definitely made me wish it were possible to have this all the time, despite the variance in geography.

Raoul was flirting with the waitress every time she stopped by to check on us. I loved the way she handled him with confidence, without it seeming like she was drooling over his good looks. There were few women who could handle themselves with such dignity around a collection of RangeMen, so it stood out to me.

After she left the table from filling our water glasses and threatening to pour the remaining liquid in the pitcher in Raoul's lap to help him with the overheating problem he was complaining about, I leaned forward and said, "I think she'd be perfect for distractions."

All three guys watched her for a few minutes. Marco looked back at me first, not lingering too long on the waitress, which pleased me more than it should have. Ranger shrugged in a non-committal way, and Raoul turned back to say, "She's a fine looking woman, but she looks nothing like you."

I blinked a few times, hoping it would help to make sense out of what he'd said. "I would think her looking nothing like me would be a good thing. There's not a huge Italian population in Miami."

"But Lester sent me your picture from a distraction and said I needed to find a woman that looked like that, so we did," he explained.

Ranger looked at his brother and said, "I'm convinced Mama dropped you on your head as a baby."

"What?" Raoul bit back defensively. "I followed your directions perfectly."

This time, Marco spoke up. "Santos meant you needed to find a woman who was good looking and could carry both attitude and an outfit like distractions often require. He didn't mean you needed to find a Stephanie lookalike."

I decided to get them back on topic. "She's constantly getting hit on by people here, and she's handling it beautifully. She's not opposed to flirting to get higher tips, but she isn't taking anything unnecessarily. Plus, she looks like she'd blend in, so she'd be safe to keep her day job without too much fear of being recognized and hurt because of her work with RangeMan."

All three guys were quiet, so I waited, hoping they would go along with my plan.

Finally, Ranger spoke. "Why don't you talk to her about it, and if she's interested, invite her to observe the distraction you're doing tonight. If it looks like something she'd be interested in, we'll look at bringing her on as a consultant first, to see how see does. If it goes well, we could talk something more permanent later."

I had a really good feeling about her the more I watched her work, and when she came back over to deliver the check, I asked, "Do you have a job outside the diner here?"

"I'm in school during the day, working toward my master's degree, but I work here in the afternoons and the days I'm not in school," she explained.

"What are you studying?" I asked curiously.

"Social work. I'm getting my MSW; with any luck, I'll be done in another nine months," she offered easily.

"What area of social work were you hoping to get into?" I wondered.

She shrugged. "I haven't decided. I'm torn between wanting to work in private counseling, and maybe working in the probation system. I've still got time to decide and a few internships to help me figure it out."

I glanced at the guys, and they all nodded that they were okay with me moving forward. I explained who we were and what RangeMan did as a company. Then I talked to her quickly about distractions and how they were in need of someone to fill that duty for them on an as needed basis. She seemed very interested, so I took her order pad and wrote the address of RangeMan on it, along with my cell phone number.

"Why don't you meet us here at ten o'clock, before we head over to the club to try and pick up a skip we're going after. You can see what I do and decide if it's something you'd be interested in trying yourself," I offered.

"Can I ask how much it would pay? I know you aren't supposed to talk about money, but I am curious what's in it for me to risk getting hurt. It sounds like things could turn ugly with little warning," she pointed out wisely.

Ranger answered, "We usually give a fee that's a percentage of the total amount RangeMan earns for the skip, but we can negotiate it to a flat rate per distraction, like a grand each time; plus, we'll put you on our health insurance and worker's compensation, so if you are injured, you'll have no medical expenses." I knew when he offered this he wanted her to do it.

"Can you do that for a consultant?" she wondered, impressing me even more.

Ranger smiled, obviously liking her inquisitive nature as well. "No, but we can set you up as a non-traditional employee and make it work."

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and thought for a minute, before saying, "Okay. I'd love to see it in person, and then I'll decide if I want to try it."

"Great," I said enthusiastically, convinced she could do this. "We'll see you tonight then, Jessica."

She looked down at her shirt, which had the Jessica nametag pinned to it. "Actually, my name is Marissa; I just don't like people knowing who I am, so I use a different name at work."

Ranger stood up, throwing two hundred dollars on the table to cover a hundred dollar lunch tab. "We'll see you tonight." The size of that tip told me he was impressed. Marissa might have attributed it to her short skirt, but I knew it was because of how well focused she was on her personal protection.

As we walked out, I turned around to see the guys better and said, "She's good looking, smart, obviously takes her safety seriously, and her background fits. I think she's perfect."

"We'll see," Ranger responded in his more reserved tone. "If she can handle tonight, then I'm okay with bringing her on." He paused, and then added, "Proud of you, Babe."

I turned to stand beside Marco, unsure what the next order of business was going to be.

Marco answered my silent thoughts by speaking to the group. "We'll set up the distraction details and have a briefing ready for 2200 hours in the garage. I'll go ahead and tag the guys who will be stationed at the door and behind the bar. Everybody else can get the case file tonight, and we'll do a quick review so Marissa can hear who we're going after and why."

Ranger and Raoul nodded and left to ride back to the office together, leaving Marco and me to make our way back alone.

We had already planned out the distraction, so we prepared a summary sheet, giving everyone the facts about Raymond Gonzales, the skip of the day. He was wanted for assault against three different women. It didn't appear he was trying to rob or rape them; he just got off on beating them to a pulp. He tended to pick up his victims, dance with them, ply them with enough booze that they wouldn't resist, and then take them to a back alley and let loose his inner demon.

An hour and a half ahead of the briefing I started getting ready for the distraction. I went through my usual routine of primping and pulled out the sluttiest outfit I'd brought with me. The little black dress certainly lived up to its name, as it only barely covered up the important bits on me.

I wanted tonight to go smoothly so Marissa would be more inclined to accept the position, so I put a little extra effort into my presentation in the hope it would grab Raymond's eye.

When I stepped out to grab my shoes in the living room, I saw Marco sitting at the bar, shaking the magic eight ball I'd left there. He frowned at it and shook it again, not appreciating the next answer any more than the last one. After the third check, I spoke up so he'd know I was watching him.

"You don't like the answer you're getting?"

He chuckled. "No, it's the exact answer I wanted, but I felt like I needed a second opinion, and it was the same answer, so I kept shaking it, assuming that statistics would intervene and give me a different response, but it hasn't."

I took the ball from him and quickly asked it, "Will tonight's distraction go smoothly?"

"Ask again later," I read from the answer displayed on the floating triangle.

He snatched it back, shook it and turned it back to look again, as the word _Yes_ appeared in the window.

"I'm still getting the same answer," he said in disbelief.

"Then I think it's trying to tell you something," I teased him.

"But why are you getting something different?" he asked, sounding confused.

I grinned at him. "It's a _Magic_ Eight ball. Obviously, I can't explain it, because it's magic."

He shook it once more and glanced at the same answer of _Yes_.

"What are you asking it?" I couldn't help but wonder.

He smiled and stood up, apparently planning on avoiding answering my question.

"I brought your wire," he said in a poor attempt to change the subject.

I narrowed my eyes to let him know I wasn't happy with his avoiding me, but I knew it was time to go downstairs, so I had to postpone pushing him on it and took the wire to get myself finished.

In the garage, I stood between Marissa and Marco and gave her an earpiece so she could listen in to the feed as well. Marco took everyone through the file, and I was glad to see she followed along with us. After everyone had heard the plan, the guys left to get in position ahead of me. Marissa rode with Raoul, and I smiled when I saw him open the door and hand her the seatbelt.

At the club, I went in determined to make tonight work. I may have been a little on the aggressive side, but ten minutes and two virgin drinks later, I had Gonzales eating out of my hand. He took me to the dance floor, and I endured two songs of him pressing his body against mine. It wasn't that he was a bad dancer, or even that he was bad looking. It was the cold ice in his eyes that made me want to run away every time I looked at him.

It was such a relief when he bought my excuse of wanting to step outside for a breath of fresh air. He pointed to the back door, and I hid my smile well, because he was following along the plan so perfectly, it seemed like he'd read the briefing himself.

I increased the speed of my steps as we walked into the alley, hoping to put enough distance between us that the guys could step in. Of course, my plan didn't work out, as Gonzales had no trouble keeping up, and the very second Romeo and his partner stepped out, the skip grabbed me from behind, holding my hands in his to restrain me.

"I don't know why you're here," Gonzales shouted, "but you can turn and walk away right now."

They put their hands up, as though surrendering. "It's okay, man," Romeo spoke slowly. "Just let the girl come with us, and we'll leave you alone."

I heard him laugh and was sickened by the sound of it. "No, you'll leave us here to finish our evening, or I'll snap her neck where we stand."

I remembered Marco working with me in the gym this morning and forcing me to practice repeatedly getting out of a hold similar to this one. He kept stressing that the best case scenario was for me to be able to get myself out of a hold like this so the guys didn't have to split their focus between saving me and securing the skip.

I noticed Romeo looking at me, probably trying to figure out what he should do. I narrowed my eyes, willing him to get the message that he needed to be ready. When he lowered his hands to his waist, suspiciously close to his gun, and nodded so slowly the skip didn't pick up on it, I knew he'd gotten the message. Apparently, it was just my internal receiver that didn't work, as I could send out ESP messages just fine.

I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and then replayed the motions I'd gone through earlier. I jabbed my stiletto as hard as possible into the top of the skip's boot, and then I slammed my hip back and to the side to throw him off balance. As he moved to catch himself, I swung away from his grasp just as a shot was fired. When I spun around to look, I saw Gonzales kneeling on the ground and Romeo cuffing his hands behind his back.

The sound of boots thundering down the alley told me every person working this distraction was coming, so I just stood there waiting. Ranger helped a guy I didn't know get the skip up and to the waiting SUV. The medic was going to clean out the through and through flesh wound in the skip's thigh before they took him to the cop shop for a body receipt.

Ranger turned back to look at us just as Marco's arms came around me and I melted back into him. Ranger got in the SUV without another word.

"Report," Raoul barked out, obviously wanting the details of why shots had been necessary. I couldn't help but notice he sounded exactly like Ranger when he used his commanding voice.

Romeo spoke up and described what had happened, including a play by play of my moves to get loose so that he could take the skip down. Marco's arms tightened more as my part was detailed.

After we had talked through it, Raoul asked if anyone had any questions. Since there were none, we were all dismissed. The guys disappeared quickly, leaving Marissa, Raoul, and Marco there alone with me.

"Is this pretty standard?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not going to tell you they all go according to plan. Maybe only half of them work in real life like they do on paper. The rest, we improvise to a good conclusion, and about ten percent of the time, I get grabbed or tossed around some. I get lots of scrapes, bruises, and cuts, but part of that is because I'm not exactly the most graceful person."

"So the self-defense moves you used," she continued. "Will I get some instruction in that, too? I mean, I've taken a basic class, but something tells me I should probably get a little more comfortable using it and should practice some."

Raoul fielded her question. "Absolutely. There are several guys at the office that can teach you, and we can set you up on a steady schedule to practice with different people so you can learn to adapt to various sizes and builds. We'll provide everything you need to be comfortable."

She seemed a little more hesitant to ask the final question. "So, the clothes…"

I knew what she was after, so I jumped in. "It various by skip, but RangeMan covers the cost of whatever outfits and shoes I need. I keep them all and try to rerun them when it's appropriate, but some situations need really specific things, so there _is_ some shopping involved."

When she smiled, I knew we had her. "I think I'd like to give it a try," she finally said.

I was so relieved, because I couldn't figure out how to complete our assignment until we'd filled the position. "I think you'll do great." I assured her.

We set up a time to meet off site tomorrow to go over the file for her first distraction and to pick up whatever clothes she would need. We'd work on her approach, and I'd tell her about some of my better strategies to help her while we were out together. Hopefully, she'd be ready to try it solo in time.

We talked for a little longer until Marissa yawned and I shivered a little, as my muscles began to ache from trying to hold them stiff, refusing to let the adrenaline let down work its way through me until we were finished. The guys picked up on both and swiftly got us out of the alley and into our respective cars for the drive back to the office.

Marco took me upstairs quickly. As soon as we got through the door of the apartment, he put an arm around my waist. I was relieved to have the extra support as the full brunt of what happened tonight hit me then, and I was doubtful my legs were still up to the challenge of keeping me vertical.

"I've got you," Marco promised, and I couldn't help but note that I didn't doubt him at all. "Do you need to sit for a minute?"

I shook my head. "No…shower."

He helped me make my way to the bathroom and lifted me to sit on the counter. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, wishing my body could adjust to the let down after distractions in some other way. I heard the shower come on, and then opened my eyes when I felt him lift my foot to pull off my shoe. He repeated the motion with the other leg, and then touched my cheek.

He seemed to be at a loss about what I needed, but didn't want to just walk away yet, either.

I took a deep breath and gave myself a mental pep talk, before telling him, "I can handle it from here."

He nodded and took a step back to give me some privacy.

I called out to him, stopping his progress to ask, "You'll still be here when I get out, right?"

He gave me half a smile and said, "Do you really need to ask?" as though the answer were obvious.

I looked down at my bare feet and shrugged.

He came back to stand between my legs immediately and cupped my face so tenderly, I had to glance down to be sure he was really touching me. When I looked back up to his eyes, he spoke. "I'm not going anywhere. Do what you need to in here, and I'll be out there waiting with the cold stuff when you're done."

I nodded and said, "Thank you," feeling like he deserved a lot more than those two words, but I couldn't get my mind to pull together what it should be.

He leaned in and put his forehead against mine. I drew in a slow, deep breath and realized he had the most magnificent smell. I couldn't identify it, but I thought it was a mixture of a woodsy, almost evergreen scent, and pure masculinity. Bringing it into me gave me enough strength to move for my shower.

I went through the motions as fast as possible, cursing the brace that slowed me down. Once I was sure I had not only washed off the skip with soap, but had disinfected my skin with water as hot as I could stand it, I got out and put on the pajamas hanging on the back of the door. I didn't have the energy to put on regular clothes, so I decided to just go with what I wanted and hoped the little cotton shorts and tank top weren't going to make Marco uncomfortable.

He stood up and came to me as soon as I opened the door and stepped out.

"I'm okay," I assured him, trying to take that confident tone to heart myself.

He didn't let go, despite my assurance that he could, and walked me over to the couch, before rushing back to the kitchen to grab the ice cream and a single spoon. I couldn't help but smile when he gave it to me and asked if there was anything else he could do. It was like he desperately wanted to be given a task, something that would make this easier on me.

I looked at the corner of the couch, and then back to him. "Sit with me?"

He toed off his boots and climbed into the corner of the sofa behind me, letting me sit between his legs and lean into him. The first few bites of ice cream were all mine, but after I began to feel the effects of the sugar on my tongue, I got a bite with a few pieces of cookie dough on the spoon and offered it to him. Surprisingly, he took what I offered, so I started giving him every other bite, until the spoon was scraping the bottom of the carton.

He took the container and spoon from my hand and set it on the coffee table beside us, next to the toy he'd been looking at earlier. We talked about the distraction, and he told me how proud he was of my escape from Gonzales. I tried to tell him it was all because of his instruction, but he wasn't interested in talking about himself. I spun around so that I was facing him, with one leg bent between us and the other thrown over his leg.

We fell into our easy conversation for a while, and in the face to face position, we managed to touch each other through most of it. It began with him running a hand down my arm, and then I traced his collarbone. He ran a finger down my chin, and I put my palm on his abs. I don't think either of us were planning out these touches, but they were born from a need to stay in contact, both for comfort and for reassurance that the ugliness of the night was over and we were both okay.

When it had been quiet for a few minutes, I looked at the coffee table and was inspired to throw him a curve ball. "What were you asking the Magic Eight ball before we left?"

He lightly laughed, before running his hand through my hair to brush it behind my shoulder. "You sure you want to know?"

I stopped to consider what he was saying. Was there a chance I didn't want to hear what he'd been asking so intently? I finally decided even if it made me uncomfortable or was shocking in some way, I still wanted to know what was on his mind.

I nodded.

He looked down and took my hand in his. "I was asking it if I should kiss you tonight."

"It said yes," I reminded him, praying he'd take the word of the toy so that I didn't have to make the first move.

He looked into my eyes, as though searching for something. I don't know if he was asking for permission, or looking to see what I thought of the idea, but my mind was screaming for him to do it – to lean forward and lay a great first kiss on me. Hopefully my ability to send messages was still intact.

He let go of my fingers to move both hands up to the sides of my neck, stretching his thumbs up to rub my jaw. "It said yes."

I licked my lips, hoping he would get the hint. I could have sworn his eyes turned a much darker shade of brown as he watched my tongue leave a trail of moisture, and then retreat back to its place.

Still, he didn't move, so I decided to give him another hint. "I agree with the Magic Eight ball."

Marco leaned forward so that we were just inches apart, and then stopped. The tension between us was so great, I wouldn't have been surprised to see a spark when our lips finally touched. He closed the distance so slowly, I wasn't sure at first if he was moving, or if it was me.

Finally, when our lips were nearly touching, he whispered, "So do I."

Sweetly, he pulled me toward him until our lips touched. Using control beyond what I thought was possible, he kissed me. It was torturously slow as he savored my lips, briefly using his tongue to trace them, before sealing his mouth to mine once more. I couldn't reconcile the mixed pulls to both jump on him and get inside his mouth to take this up another notch, with also wanting to keep it simple, to relish in this moment, because there was no duplicating a first kiss and it was perfect just as it was.

He pulled back only far enough to angle his face in the other direction and give us both a chance to take a deep breath, and then he picked up exactly where we'd left off. I couldn't stand it anymore, and I used my tongue to trace his perfectly full lips. He barely opened his mouth to let out a sound of pleasure, and I jumped at the access he had probably unintentionally given.

Being inside his mouth was overwhelming. It was warm and sweet, like a drug demanding that I taste more, that I take more. I moved my hands to his shoulders and pulled him closer to me, opening my mouth as his tongue ventured toward me. He made that delicious sound as he began to explore my mouth, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, desperate to increase the connection in any way. At that moment, even my barely there pajamas felt like too much to have between us.

Just when I thought that kissing him alone was going to drive me crazy, he shifted it into overdrive by pushing me backward and laying me gently on the couch, covering my body with his. He used his left elbow to hold some weight back, but his right hand stayed tangled in my hair.

This time, it was my turn to moan as he continued to explore my mouth, my jaw, and my neck with his lips and tongue, occasionally scraping with his teeth, and then soothing any sting away with the warm pad of his tongue. He was nestled between my legs, and I tried to refrain from moving against him, but the quick move of his hand to still my hip told me I'd probably failed on that.

He buried his face in the juncture of my neck and let out a long, warm breath. "Is this okay…too much?" He was mumbling and not getting whole sentences out, but I knew what he was asking.

I grabbed his face as best I could and tugged to get him to look at me. "It's perfect, as long as you don't stop."

I didn't even see him move as he closed the distance once more to join our mouths again. Strangely, my mind that usually moved at warp speed from one topic to the next was at rest – almost blank. Being this close to Marco stilled me and soothed away all thoughts of work or criminals. I didn't feel exhausted or keyed up from the rush of the distraction. My mind wasn't wandering to where the kissing might lead next. I was content, and so fully in the moment that I could think of nothing besides the man on top of me and the connection between us.

He pulled back and rested his head once more in the crook of my neck, breathing a little faster than normal. "Ah, Steph…" He sounded so sexy with his deep voice vibrating against my chest. "I don't mean to scare you, but the more you give, the more I want," he offered as an explanation for how he was feeling.

I rubbed my hand down his back and lingered over the hard muscles there. "Good," I assured him when he finished speaking, "because I haven't given you even a fraction of what I want to."

His head jerked up, as though I'd completely surprised him with my comment. Clearly, he hadn't considered how much I wanted him.

"Come here," I pleaded, laying my hand back on his face. "I need more of you, too."

His response was immediate, as though his body was powerless to resist my command. And wasn't that just the best feeling ever, to think that I could control this powerful man, at least in the private moments like this one.

"Take all you want," he pleaded between kisses. "Let me give to you."

Time may have stood still for all I knew, but in this moment, I felt completely adored, for the first time in my life. The combination of someone equally offering themselves to me and wanting me for themselves – overlapping the connection of our minds and hearts where he didn't withhold himself, but opened up more every day – undid me completely.

It may have taken us a while to finally give into what had been building for a few weeks, but in this moment – this perfect moment – it was worth the wait.


	20. Stay

_The world below was created by the brilliant mind of JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for the time you spent going over this chapter as the beta. _

**Chapter 20 - Stay**

We all gathered around in the parking lot of the club where Marissa had successfully completely her first distraction. I was so impressed with the way she'd gotten into it and lured the gullible skip out in less than twenty minutes. The guys had gotten him in cuffs, and she'd vanished from sight to avoid being associated with his return to jail. It was textbook perfect, and I was proud of the fact that I'd help to support her in getting ready for it.

Romeo threw an arm around her shoulders and said, "Gorgeous, if you need anyone to take a look at your briefs, I'll be glad to volunteer for that duty."

She elbowed him hard enough in his ribs that he winced, and then she told him she would only agree to help with these things if the guys promised not to quote her lines to the skip back to her.

I walked over to her side and told her she could just give up on that right now. "These guys deal with so much stress and have seen so many horrible things, when there is something they can laugh and smile about, it's not fair to hold it back from them," I advised, hoping she understood the spirit with which my comment was said.

"They do seem like a big goofy group of brothers, don't they?" she observed.

The guys were in their own little world, reviewing the take down itself, strategizing how they would have reacted if the skip had been a little faster out the door and closer to Marissa when they alerted him of their presence.

She and I moved to the outside edge of the group and went over her performance.

"You were wonderful," I assured her.

"I was nervous and couldn't believe some of the stuff coming out of my mouth. I mean, 'I'm a paralegal, and I spent all day reviewing my boss' briefs?' Where did that come from?" she confessed with a slight blush.

"There's nothing like being on the spot and knowing a whole host of people are listening in to make your mind go blank. You covered it perfectly, though, and the guys were impressed," I told her.

"Really?" She seemed uncertain. "I mean, I wanted this to go well. I could really use the money, and I like the idea of doing something to help get dangerous people off the streets."

We chatted and decided to meet up for coffee in the morning before she went to work at the diner. There was nothing scheduled at RangeMan for her tomorrow, but I wasn't sure how much longer we would be in town, now that it seemed obvious Miami had the basic idea of the distraction down pat and a more than capable person to use for them.

I was feeling very proud of myself for the role I'd played in finding Marissa. For once, I didn't feel like I was unqualified for what I was doing. Who knew I would like training people? I couldn't help but smile at the thought that if Joe could see me now, he might not be so resentful of my job. Then again, it was probably a good thing he wasn't here to see it.

Marco was listening to the guys break down what to do if someone in the bar other than the skip begins to give Marissa too much attention, and while he might have been engaged with the sounds around him, he was looking right at me. When I met his gaze, he held it for a few minutes, and then he winked at me. He managed to do it without moving any of the other muscles in his face, which made it unnoticeable except to me.

_Holy hot flash_. Marco was covertly flirting with me. I couldn't stop the smile that spread over my face. Seeing his eyes sparkle at my response was a lovely sight, too. Everything between us felt so new and exciting, but at the same time, there was a connection there that made it feel as though we'd had much longer than a few weeks to get to know each other. I knew in traditional terms, we hadn't known each other long enough for me to feel this strongly, but I'd never been a traditionalist, so screw anybody that wanted to criticize me for loving that man.

Wait…loving him? Did I? I looked back up and saw he was still watching me, and I felt my body warm up from the chest outward. Ranger used to be able to do that to me, but it wasn't my heart that heated up first – it was definitely farther south. Of course, Marco got the heat going down there, too, but that wasn't the only thing involved. I trusted Marco, not just with my life, but with my emotions. And for someone like me, who didn't really do emotions, that was saying something. I guess I did love him. I wasn't sure if I was ready to share that piece of news yet and scare him off, but just knowing it in my own heart steeled my resolve to not let him back away from what we had when we returned to Trenton.

I continued to focus on the man I had fallen for and couldn't understand his expression. Almost as though it was in slow motion, his blank face with the amused eyes shifted, and his eyes hardened and turned cold while his expression was replaced with one of pure rage. I couldn't understand what had happened to make him react so strongly and shoot such a look of hatred in my direction. Hell, maybe my sending ESP was better than I thought and he realized I was a lot more into what we had than he was.

Before I could continue that ridiculous train of thought anymore, I was grabbed and yanked backward, away from Marissa, who was focused on the guys, and into the shadows of the parking lot, not illuminated by the lights. Something cold and sharp was placed against my throat, and my hands were trapped with a strong arm keeping me against a hard body.

I heard a voice that I had assumed I'd never hear again. "Well, well, girlie. Imagine meeting you here. I'm out on bail and wanted to pay a little visit to the person responsible for me losing my job, and I find out she's flown south. I decided since I can't work anymore, I'll follow her example and meet her down here. Of course, you aren't an easy person to get access to, since you're always surrounded by the group of guys you're leading around by the balls, but I'm a patient man with nothing else to do, so I waited for my chance."

"What do you want?" I asked, grimacing at how frightened my voice sounded.

"That's a good question," Red replied. "I want you to understand what you've done. I've lost my life because of you, so it's only fair that you bear that, as well."

"What do you mean? You still have your life," I tried reasoning.

"No, no, no," he disagreed. "People think I'm nuts now. I have no job, no place to stay, and no respect in the place I grew up. I'm as good as dead on the streets without the backing of RangeMan. So I figured if I was going down anyway, I may as well take you with me."

His grip on the knife at my throat tightened, and I winced at the burning sensation it was creating.

"Let her go," Ranger's cool voice commanded.

"Since I am no longer your employee, I don't think I'm obliged to comply with that request," Red replied, as though it was the most amusing thing he'd ever said.

"It wasn't a request; it was a command," Ranger corrected him, stepping closer. "Let me rephrase it for you – let her go, or I'm going to kill you."

Red chuckled, giving me another clue about just how far gone he was on the crazy train. "See, I'm betting the only way I leave this parking lot is in a body bag, so letting your little toy go isn't going to prevent that."

"What do you want?" Ranger asked as he changed his tactic, inching forward at the same time.

"I want you to recognize that little girls have no business playing in the work we do. She caused the men in Boston to lose their focus and cut me out. And I think the only way to be sure you understand how serious this is would be to take her out with me," Red explained calmly.

"You know I won't let you do that," Ranger warned him.

"Do you think you have a choice?" Red questioned. "Look at her. She's in no shape to fight me, and even if you shoot me down, I'll still have enough time to slit her throat. You know I'm deadly with a knife and can do it."

I believed the crazy man holding me and tried to run through options of things I could do to get myself free. Unfortunately, I was convinced if I tried to break free, he would still be able to hurt me, so I didn't see a move for me to make.

I scanned the crowd forming around us. Ranger was straight ahead of us with an expression that would have made a sane man drop the knife and take off running. Raoul had pushed Marissa behind him, and I briefly wondered if he was beginning to develop a crush on my understudy. To Ranger's right, Romeo had his gun out. I knew Lester's reputation with a gun, so there was comfort in knowing his little brother was ready to fire if an opportunity presented itself.

Rodriguez was standing to the left, but seemed to be circling around wider. There was no way for him to get behind us, as the side of the building was there. Red had backed us into a corner, and the only way out was probably exactly what he'd predicted – in a bag.

I glanced from one Rangeman to the next, trying to look them in the eye, hoping for some sort of direction. Ranger held his hand up, as though telling us to stop, so I tried to relax, assuming the message was for me. I quickly wondered what it would do to Marco if Red's plan succeeded. Seeing someone else he cared for bleed to death from a neck wound might be more than he could recover from, and I found myself getting more pissed off at that fact than the idea that I'd end up losing my life.

"So this is your plan?" I asked, feeling my temper rise up, preventing me from staying in the relaxed place Ranger wanted. "You are just going to slit my throat, and then stand here while the guys fire multiple rounds into you?"

"An eye for an eye, girlie," he stated, as though that made sense.

I tried to figure out what kind of leverage I might have in this situation. Red was left handed, which meant the knife was on his dominate side and he was using his right hand to restrain me. If I could get an arm free, it would be the one in the brace, which meant there wasn't much I could do with that marginal amount of freedom. I considered trying to push the knife hand away, but it was so close to me, I didn't think I could get the bulky brace between his arm and my neck fast enough to be effective. That really only left me with one play, and it was risky, at best.

Still, I preferred to make a risky move rather than dying with my neck slit open, so I made intentional eye contact with each of the guys, locking my gaze on Marco last. If this failed and I ended up causing Red to make good on his threat, I wanted the last thing I saw to be Marco's face.

He knew I was going to do something. At first, it looked like he was pleading with his eyes for me to just wait. But I intensified my expression, and he backed down, pulling out the gun from his hip that I'd not seen him use before. When he nodded at me, I took that as permission to move.

I slowly pulled my left hand away, which came free easily. Red didn't react, because he probably figured the knife at my throat would keep me from trying anything stupid. I shut my eyes, clamping them tightly, not sure I wanted to know what was going to happen next.

With all the speed and strength I could muster, I shifted my hips to the right and swung my braced arm backward, making direct contact with the sac between Red's legs. The impact was every bit as hard as my knee would have been. His left hand instinctively lowered, as though wanting to protect himself from another attack, and those few inches of space and the loosening of his grip on me gave me the ability to drop to the ground.

I had barely hit the asphalt, when I heard several guns fire multiple times at once. I stayed in a ball on the ground, afraid to open my eyes and see what had happened. Was Red gone? Did anyone else get hurt? With all the rounds fired, if all the guys had hit their target, what would Red look like?

I could hear footsteps and knew the guys were near me, which should have told me the threat was over. I heard Ranger's voice call my name, but that wasn't enough to snap me out of the hiding place I'd sunk into.

But when a warm hand touched my hair, I knew Rodriguez was there, so I opened my eyes and lifted my head in his direction. Kneeling in front of me was a very worried looking man. He put his hands high on either side of my face, like blinders on a horse. I assumed he didn't want me to see the scene behind me, and the fact that he was willing to let me live in denial about what was there touched me.

"Is he…" I stopped, not able to get the word dead out.

"Completely," Marco assured me, with no hesitancy or doubt in his voice.

"Who…" I started to ask, but my throat clenched at the question.

"Can't say for sure," Marco replied, too cryptic to be helpful.

"Who killed him?" I asked the whole question this time, hoping he'd answer it.

"There are at least eight slugs in him, all hitting either dead center in his chest or forehead," he said, giving me the details to explain what he'd meant. "Any of them, or all of them, would have been the cause of death. I'd like to think I was the one responsible, but I have a feeling we'd all love to have the credit."

"So there's no chance he'll be revived or get over this?" I hadn't meant to doubt him, but I needed to be assured this was finally over.

Marco angled around me to look at the scene behind me. "Not a chance in hell he'll ever draw another breath."

I let out a long breath of relief. "Good."

Then I winced at how cold hearted that made me sound. Red was nuts, nobody could deny that as fact, but rejoicing at anyone's death made me sound so callus.

"Stop," Marco said, interrupting my internal debate over my reaction. "You have every right to be relieved that you aren't in danger anymore. I know I'm glad he's gone, and it looks like every man here feels the same way. You aren't glorifying death; you are just accepting that sometimes that's the only way to eliminate a threat. We both know Red was desperate and wasn't going to stop until he had punished you for his own stupidity."

I leaned forward and let Marco wrap his arms around me, taking off my blinders. I shut my eyes, not really wanting to see what I was sure was a gruesome scene. I heard the sirens and tensed up at the thought of dealing with the cops. They didn't know me here, so their first thought might be that I had done something wrong.

Two guys got out of the patrol car, followed by a plain clothes cop or detective in a Crown Victoria. All three of them went straight to Marissa, who was at the back of our little group, looking surprised and slightly panicked at her being in the midst of a scene like this. One of them wrapped his arm around her and spoke over her head, like he didn't want her to see his face.

They talked for a few seconds, before he stepped back and rustled her hair. It wasn't a touch between lovers; it seemed more like siblings. As the three cops approached us, they went straight to Raoul and began sorting out what had happened. Between the three of them, it didn't take long to get our statements. The plain clothes officer talked to me and asked if I wanted him to call an EMT.

"No, I'm okay," I replied more out of habit than truth.

"Really?" he asked, uncertain. "Because there's blood dripping from the cut on your neck, and you're cradling that hand as though the little bit of action it saw has reinjured it."

I brought my right hand up to my neck and said, "It's just a scratch. I can get it cleaned up by the medic back at the office."

"How about the hand?" he asked in a way that was more about concern than control.

"I think it's okay, too. I just jarred it a little," I said, trying to convince us both.

He shut his notebook and put the pen in his pocket. "My sister tells me you saved the day and kept this from being much worse than it was."

I picked up on what he was offering and said, "Marissa is an amazing young lady."

He smiled, accepting the compliment as though it somehow reflected on him personally. "That she is, but I swear, she's aging her brothers, and her new employment here isn't helping."

"They'll take care of her," I promised him.

"God knows we can use all the help we can get. That girl seems to be followed by trouble everywhere she goes," he admitted, with great affection in his voice.

No wonder Marissa had recognized the brotherly feel at RangeMan. Apparently, it was something she was used to. When the detective finished up, he announced he was taking Marissa home, and she went with him, smiling as though this were just another day in her life and nothing all that alarming had happened.

The coroner hauled off what was left of Red, and once I heard the bag being zipped up, I finally relaxed, believing that this nightmare was officially over.

As our little party began to break up, Rodriguez shifted so that only one hand was around my waist instead of keeping me pressed tightly to his chest as I had been for the last hour. "You ready to go back?" he asked, leaving our next move up to me.

I nodded, and we made our way to one of the SUVs still in the parking lot. Raoul and Ranger were in the front, leaving the back seat for Marco and me. We slid in, with me sitting in the center, plastered against his side. He kept one arm over my shoulder, and the other hand was cradling my brace.

"Babe," Ranger spoke from the front seat.

I knew he was asking if I was okay. I paused before answering, wondering if this was awkward for him. In the past, he was the one that had always comforted me during a situation like this.

"I'm okay," I assured him. "A little spooked, and I may need some attention on my neck, but I'll be okay."

Silence fell in the truck, almost like a fifth passenger, tangible instead of comfortable. We stayed trapped in our own thoughts until we got out in the garage at the office.

Ranger came over to where Rodriguez was helping me out of the truck and caught my eye. I stopped to really look at him and noticed his blank face was missing. When he opened his arms, I didn't hesitate to walk straight into them. It was like going home when he surrounded me with his embrace. It was as familiar and comforting as being in my mother's kitchen when a cake had just come out of the oven. "Proud of you, Babe."

I couldn't help but smile at his words. "All I did was drop to the ground. You guys were the ones that did the work."

"Were you not listening at all as we gave our reports? Every one of us said the same thing. You temporarily incapacitated the assailant, got yourself into a safe position, and gave us a small window with which to take out the threat. You saved yourself. We were just there to be sure you were never put in the position to have to do that again."

Long speeches from Ranger were always a little unnerving, so I didn't have a response to his words.

"I knew when I partnered you with Rodriguez, it would either blow up in my face, or it would make you both stronger." He squeezed me slightly to let me know he was claiming credit for how Marco and I were getting along.

I looked up to see his face and saw an expression of pride and joy as he gazed at me. "You are an amazing woman," he said quietly, before placing a kiss on my forehead and adding, "Why don't you two go down to three so Ronnie can take at look at your neck and wrist. If I have to go back to Trenton and tell Bobby that you reinjured it on my watch, there will be one of those take-a-number machines installed on the side of the sparring ring."

I laughed at the image of the guys calling Ranger out for me getting hurt. "Maybe that would help you see how ridiculous it is to punish people for the craziness that happens around me."

Ranger dropped his arms and tucked a curl behind my ear. "Go on, Babe. I think somebody's waiting for you."

And just like that, it wasn't weird at all. When I spun around and looked at Marco, he was smiling slightly, as though he liked the way Ranger and I had interacted. There was no insane jealousy on his part, and Ranger wasn't baiting him the way he used to with Joe. There was a comfortable understanding between us all, and I was grateful to know I could have the support of all the men I loved, without it threatening the man I needed most of all.

We took the elevator up to three, and the Miami medic, Ronnie, cleaned my neck with what I was sure was some sort of flesh eating acid based on how badly it burned.

"I'm sorry," he apologized nervously. "But if this gets infected, it will scar, so I want to be sure it's really clean before we wrap it for the night." He used a light gauze to make a bandage. It wasn't so tight that it was uncomfortable, and he assured me it could come off tomorrow, so I relaxed a little.

"She'll need to take a shower tonight," Marco told him.

"Leave the bandage on," Ronnie instructed, before grabbing some more, along with a tube of some sort of ointment. "Then after she's done, take it off, put some of this on, and rewrap it. Until there is a scab forming, I want to keep it covered."

Marco nodded and took the items, before asking, "What about her hand?"

Ronnie winced at that question, but began to loosen my brace in order to see my wrist better. He pressed on a couple of places, one of which nearly made me levitate off the exam table.

Rodriguez had gripped Ronnie's wrist before I even saw him move. "You're going to be more careful, right?"

Ronnie swallowed, and I instantly felt sorry for him. "It's okay. That just hurt a little more than the other spots did, and I wasn't expecting it."

My words helped Marco to relax enough to release Ronnie so he could complete his exam. When he was done, he carefully slid the brace back in place and strapped it back tightly.

"I'm not really happy about that tenderness," he started, clearly understating his concern. "I'm thinking at the very least, you need to take the brace off and ice it some tonight and in the morning. Then we'll check again for any increased swelling or bruising. The brace would have offered protection, but even small pins like these create a weak place in bones. In essence, they make a dotted line for a break to occur. I don't think it's broken, but I can't tell for sure without an x-ray."

"Do you want me to call Bobby?" Marco asked me.

I glanced over at Ronnie, and he almost seemed to be suggesting I let him.

"No, I'm sure if anything is wrong, Ronnie can handle it," I said, hoping that would boost the young medic's confidence.

"I don't mind," Ronnie argued meekly. "I mean, it isn't going to upset me if he comes down."

I hopped off the table quickly before anybody could stop me. "Bobby has more important things to do than follow me around whenever I get a scrape." I put a hand on Ronnie's shoulder and added, "I trust you."

I tried to hide my smile when he sat up a little straighter, as though my trust made him want to earn the honor he assumed it to be.

"Come down tomorrow after breakfast, and I'll take another look before we decide if anything else needs to be done," he called out as we started to leave.

Marco took me straight to the bathroom in my apartment, setting me on the counter and turning on the water. "Do you need any help?" he asked gently, recognizing I tended to not fully react to whatever trauma I'd been through until I was in a private place.

His words snapped me out of my trance, and I looked him in the eye and said simply, "Stay."

"Steph…" He touched my face with his hand. "You know I'm not going anywhere tonight."

I realized he didn't understand what I was suggesting, so I tried to be a little more clear. "I didn't mean in the apartment. I meant, stay here with me while I shower."

His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what I meant. "You mean in the bathroom, while you're in the tub?"

I shook my head no, and he tried again. "In the shower?"

My bottom lip slipped into my mouth, wondering if I was asking for too much, too soon. Letting my lip free, I nodded yes, that was exactly what I wanted.

Marco swallowed, paused, and then swallowed once more, before I saw the resolve come over his face. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

And then with touches that were so tender, I struggled to believe it was possible, he stripped us both down and led me to the shower.

I always thought I was a walking contradiction, not being overly girlie, but loving to get all gussied up and go out. I was in a physical business, and yet, I hated working out. I worked around criminals, but shied away from violence.

And yet, here was a man who had used his bare hands to kill before, creating lather with the soap in the shower and gently cleaning the evidence of the night away from my body. His pinpoint precision as a marksman was counter to the way he cleaned me without focusing too much on any one part of my body to keep me from becoming self-conscious or uncomfortable. He was both warrior and lover, with no tension between the two.

As he finished and pulled me back under the spray to rinse off, I felt the signs of the crash I knew was coming. Marco pulled me against his chest and held me in the warm water, supporting me as the excess adrenaline worked through my body. I clung to him, much tighter than was necessary, since he was already supporting me.

I saw clearly the evidence of how he felt about me. This was a man of action, and his behavior all night had proven that my thoughts in the parking lot regarding my own feelings were in line with his for me. We hadn't said the words, but in this moment, I knew I was loved, and based on what I knew about Marco, I believed it was forever.


	21. Check Ups and Check Ins

_All the credit for the Plum world below belongs to JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your support and hard work as the beta on this story. _

**Chapter 21 – Check Ups and Check Ins**

There was a buzzing sound on the nightstand across from me. I decided to ignore it, but a few seconds later, it happened again. I reached out to smack whatever bug was making the racket and got a groan, followed by, "Ouch," instead.

Thinking it was odd that a bug would make a comment about being injured, my eyes jerked open, and I saw Marco holding a cell phone with sleepy bedroom eyes, looking at me.

We were in my bed, with me under the covers and him on top of them. He was wearing only his blue boxers, and I was temporarily distracted by the tan skin I was laying against. It was so delicious looking, a girl had to wonder how he'd taste. Before I could get any further into that train of thought, he pushed a few buttons on the phone and groaned.

"We're expected in the conference room in an hour for the debrief on last night," he said, turning the phone to show a long text that my eyes had no hope of focusing on this early.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, hoping he could understand me.

"A little after nine," he informed me, thankfully using normal language instead of speaking of time in terms of hours like all the military guys around here did.

"How's the hand?" he asked, refusing to let me go back to sleep.

"Fine," I replied out of habit.

"So the fact that your fingers are swollen isn't causing you any pain?" he pushed, not believing my first response.

Picking up on the hint that my rest time had been officially ruined, I scooted up and looked at the tips of my fingers poking out of the end of the brace. He was right; they were definitely swollen. Shit, this didn't bode well for me being able to shake off whatever harm had come from my escape last night.

I made a sound of displeasure instead of trying to form a sentence, and Marco laughed a little. "Can you handle getting ready, or do you need some help?"

"I'm good," I replied, thankful that he wasn't trying to force his help on me. I liked my independence and needed a little time to see exactly how my body felt without an audience.

He nodded and announced, "I'm going next door to shower and change. I'll come back when I'm done, and we can head up together, okay?"

I nodded, and he took that as my approval of his plan, so he stood up, grabbed some pants from off the floor, and covered up a body that seemed criminal to be hidden behind such drab clothes. Now that I'd seen him without the RangeMan uniform, I was focused on getting my next private viewing.

He caught me staring and stopped his efficient dressing to look at me. "What?" he asked with a smile, as though the knowledge that I was checking him out was amusing.

"Blue?" I blurted out without thinking. "I figured you were all black, all the time."

He looked down at the sliver of color still visible from his boxers, before he zipped his pants. "You should know by now that my public persona and who I am underneath are nowhere near the same."

After the week we'd spent together in Miami, I had to acknowledge the truth in that statement.

Forty minutes later, I had given up on making my hair do anything acceptable and threw on a regular RangeMan uniform, not feeling very creative. When I heard the door to my apartment open, I knew I was running out of time and growled my displeasure at the mirror.

Marco appeared in the doorway of my bedroom looking, very concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," I huffed out.

"Let's do that again, and this time, try it without lying to my face," he said with a sharp tone. "Now, is everything okay?"

"If you already know the answer, why bother asking the question?" I snapped.

"To give you a chance to ask for some help, instead of barging in here, demanding you tell me what's going on," he calmly explained.

Damn him for being all considerate and logical. "My hair is having a horrible day."

"From the sound of it, what your hair started, the rest of you has caught onto," he replied, taking a few steps closer.

I decided to let him into the world of my thought process and see how he reacted. "Normally, I would just pull it back into a ponytail and forget trying to force it into submission, but the brace makes that hard, and the pain in my wrist is making it impossible. And I didn't pack any hats." I was just rambling out my complaints now.

"Sit," he barked out an order, pointing to the corner of my bed.

I complied, simply because I didn't have any other solutions. Marco came out of the bathroom with my wide toothed comb and an elastic hair band in his hand. He made easy work of pulling the comb through my hair and didn't even pull it. Then, he masterfully pulled it back and used the band to hold the ponytail in place.

When he was done, he didn't say a word. He just left to put the comb back in the bathroom.

"How did you know what to do?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"I had a little sister and busy parents," he offered as an explanation, his curt tone indicating that was all the information I was going to get.

"Ready?" he asked, reminding me we did have a meeting to attend.

An hour later, I was tired of reliving the night before. The cops had already contacted Raoul with their final determination that Red's death had been ruled defense of a third party and no charges would be pressed. They had discussed proper group guard protocol ad nauseam, and I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

I felt a piece of paper being slipped into my hand and jumped, before realizing Marco was passing me a note. I unfolded it, thrilled to have a distraction, and read, _Why don't you go see Ronnie so he can check out your wrist? This will probably continue on for at least another hour. Now I remember why I dropped out of the whole team dynamic. My ass is asleep._

I covered my mouth with my hand to cover my laugh, but the raised eyebrow from Ranger told me I wasn't overly successful.

I folded up the piece of paper once more, drew a smiley face on the outside, and angled it so he could see my response, before getting up and walking out for a break.

Ronnie was busy stuffing first aid kits in the same way I'd seen Bobby do it over the years. He noticed my entrance and looked relieved to have a valid reason to stop what he was doing. "Hey, Stephanie, how's the wrist this morning?"

I shrugged, not wanting to lie to him, and went over to sit on the exam table I'd used last night.

He pointed to my neck and asked if he could look at it, before cutting away the gauze instead of unwrapping it. He touched it softly, and then grabbed some more of the greasy ointment to apply with a Q-tip. "It looks good, and it's closed up, so you can leave it open now."

That was one piece of good news, at least.

He sat on the rolling stool in front of me and carefully removed the brace, letting out a low whistle at the color and size of my hand.

"That's not a good sound," I commented, having learned from Bobby that a verbal reaction was usually only for bad news.

"Well…" Ronnie was searching for the right way to say whatever he needed to say.

Before he could get his thoughts together, a familiar voice said, "She prefers it if you just tell it like it is and hold nothing back."

"Hey, Ranger," I said, glad to have a friendly face, even if he was bottling up whatever he was feeling at the moment behind his blank mask.

"Babe," he replied with a nod of his head, before addressing Ronnie again. "What's the word?"

"I think she's definitely reinjured it, but I can't tell if she's just re-torn the ligaments that had begun to heal, or if the bone has broken where the pins had weakened it," he reported nervously.

"Call Celia, and get her in now," Ranger commanded, causing Ronnie to jump and leave us alone.

Ranger then turned to me to explain. "Celia's my sister and an orthopedic surgeon. She'll make time for you and can handle whatever is going on in there." He came around and sat on the stool in front of me to look at my wrist. A mild wince passed over his face before he controlled it.

"I figure there are probably better ways to go about it, but for once, I'm not the palest person in the room," I joked, looking at the dark colored bruises.

"It was hard to let you leave the garage without me last night," he confessed.

"You had plenty of other things to do besides babysit me," I pointed out, completely understanding why he hadn't stuck around longer.

"I've always been the one with you after a run in like that," he stated again.

"I had somebody with me, so I wasn't alone," I stated, wondering what he was getting at.

There was a beat of silence, before he switched subjects. "It's what I wanted for both of you," he confessed, looking up at me with the blank face I abhorred.

"You were playing matchmaker?" I asked, confused, thinking it was totally not what I expected from him.

"Not intentionally, but I wanted to see him find someone that could reach the guy he'd buried, and I wanted to see you find someone that could handle your life and help you to see the woman I knew was in there but had been locked up and held back. I didn't really see you coming together as a couple, but I hoped you could help each other get to a place where you'd both be better off," he explained in a roundabout way.

I felt like I should say something in response, but for once, words failed me.

Ranger spoke again, keeping the silence from drawing out too long. "Seeing you two together, though... It's a good idea; I wish I'd had it first."

"So you're okay with…" How did I finish that sentence? I still didn't exactly know what we were to each other, and I wasn't in a big hurry to slap a label on it.

"I think he can keep up with you, if he decides that's what he wants. And the guy is loyal as the day is long, so you wouldn't have any worries there. But most importantly, his life is his own, so he can be there for you anytime you need him," Ranger explained in a long winded speech by his standards.

"When you lay it out like that, even I can't come up with an argument against it," I replied with a smile.

He didn't have to be here, talking to me about a subject he clearly wasn't completely happy with, despite his words to the contrary. But once again, he was showing why he was the best friend I'd ever known.

Before I could come up with an appropriate way to thank him, Ronnie returned.

"Celia can see you in fifteen minutes, so we need to roll."

"I'll drive," Ranger announced, standing and offering his hand to help me down.

I grabbed my phone and slowly worked out a text to Marco. _Ronnie and Ranger taking me to __dr. __Have to leave now to see Celia._

I got an immediate response before we hit the stairwell. _Will meet you in the garage_.

I couldn't stop the smile from coming over my face at his response. I hadn't asked him for anything, but he knew what I needed. Every day convinced me that my initial assessment was right – Marco was the perfect man.

Dr. Celia was everything you'd expect of Ranger's sister. She was beautiful, no nonsense, and exuded a confidence that made it impossible to doubt her opinion.

"The x-ray shows no breaks, and the MRI makes me think the beginning corrective growth in the torn ligaments has been reinjured, thus causing the swelling, but the alignment is still perfect for it to regenerate. Honestly, I don't know how you managed to keep from hurting anything else while ripping apart the new root growth," she explained.

"So what do we do?" I asked, wishing there was a way to make it look better.

"Ice, ibuprofen, and restricted use," she listed quickly, before clarifying, "Honestly, the less you try to use it the better, at this point. The brace will keep you from twisting it awkwardly, but it doesn't provide total support. If it were my hand, I'd put it in a sling to keep it completely immobilized, at least until the swelling goes down."

"How long should that take?" I wondered aloud.

Her head moved from side to side, like she was working out a complex math problem. "It depends, but I would think if you pushed the ice and meds and really gave it a break like I suggest, then in three or four days it should be back to normal."

I shut my eyes, trying to figure out how I'd function without my hand or arm at all. How would I carry my purse? I mean, I know I have another arm, but I've never been able to make my shoulder bags stay up on the right side; they always go to my left.

"Really, you were very lucky," Celia spoke a little softer. "This has probably taken you back to the same place you were a week or so ago when you initially injured it, but you haven't taken any steps back from there, which is amazing. So instead of losing the screws in five more weeks, you'll probably need to wait six. And with all these guys around, I'd assume there will be plenty of help to pick up the slack of you having to work one handed."

Then she turned around and looked at her brother, who had been silently leaning against the wall. "And since I know your boss pretty well, I'd say a few days off would be totally called for – hell... warranted, even – as a basic worker's compensation arrangement."

I knew she meant well, but I didn't want to be shut out and forced to stay closed up in my apartment all day while everyone else worked upstairs.

She handed out a few more instructions, and we began to file out. As a reflex, I went back to her and hugged her quickly, thanking her for not only seeing me, but for taking the time to explain everything in such a positive way.

She pulled back and smiled at me, leaving her hand on my arm, to say, "There's not much my family wouldn't do for the woman that helped rescue Julie for my brother. He thinks the world of you, and for a long time, we honestly expected to hear that you guys were dating, but when we thought about it, it makes more sense that you're not. He clearly respects and cares for you too much to pretend to have a relationship, knowing it couldn't be a complete commitment on his part. You guys are obviously comfortable with the way things are, which is great. He needs whatever it is you bring to his life."

I assured her I needed it, too, and then said goodbye to join the guys for the drive back.

Ranger proved why I considered him such a wise man when he asked, "So do you want a few days to rest and keep the arm out of commission? I'd give it to any of the guys if they were injured on the job."

"No, I'm good," I quickly replied, not wanting to feel useless so far away from home.

Ranger turned around at the stop light to look at me, but didn't push the issue any further.

When we arrived back at RangeMan, he told us since I was intent on working, he needed Rodriguez and me to type up our detailed reports of the activity the night before so that he had a complete file, and we also needed to go by the PD to sign our official statements so they could close out the case.

A quick turn of his head to Ronnie, and only the three of us remained in the garage. "After I get your reports, I'll consider your assignment of training to be complete. You have obviously taken the offices through the process of running searches, and you have set them up far beyond what we had in Trenton when we first started running distractions, so they have all the tools they need to develop that as a capture strategy, as well. You've completed everything in record time, despite the obstacles, so I am thanking you for your service and ordering you both to take a week of paid time off before returning to Trenton the following Monday."

My jaw fell open, but Marco took the command with no reaction. "Why are we being punished?" I asked, ready to argue the point.

Ranger shook his head and nearly smiled. "Babe, you aren't being punished. You're being rewarded for a job well done. Hell, I usually volunteer to defray part of the cost of the vacations my guys take after completing a special assignment like this one, but I figured you'd refuse, so I didn't even bring it up. I'm trying to thank you."

I realized I'd been about to unleash my inner rhino on him and had to quickly cage it back up. Ranger was being nice, but not out of pity – out of his typical boss man generosity. Deciding it would be fun to toy with him a little, I asked, "So if I said I wanted you to provide some air transportation and accommodations, you might be willing to negotiate?"

His eyebrows shot up, and Marco nearly gave himself whiplash from twisting his head around to look at me so quickly.

I couldn't help but smile. It was so much fun to play with the boys.

Ranger recovered first and said, "As long as you're picking a place that I feel reasonably comfortable you'd be secure, I'll make the call and set everything up for you."

Then I turned to Marco, who had an expression I couldn't pin point, and said, "All right. I got him to agree to pay; you can pick the place."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "It's your vacation; you should decide that for yourself."

I realized he was upset because he thought I was going to leave town without him. Geez, it was hard work keeping up with his thought processes.

"I thought it was our vacation, and if you're going to be stuck with just me for a week with no work interruptions, I thought you might like to control where that would occur," I told him, covering my mouth so he wouldn't see my smile as the knowledge that I wanted to go away with him for a week dawned on him.

He opened his mouth, and then shut it.

I glanced at Ranger, who seemed to be struggling with his blank face, until he finally gave up the fight and just blatantly smiled. "Man, it's been so damn long since I saw you struggling to know what to say, instead of seeing you knowing what you should say and refusing to open your mouth. I have to say, this way's more fun."

With no warning, Rodriguez punched Ranger in the arm, and Ranger reacted so quickly, the sounds of the punches were like echoes of each other. They both laughed and backed up, bouncing slightly on their toes. A couple more tries to get a hit in were attempted, but they both seemed to be experts at deflecting, so they ended up doing some sort of fist bump and head nod combination, before Ranger said, "Glad you're back, man. We've missed the hell out of you."

For Ranger, that was quite a strong statement of emotion, and it wasn't lost on Rodriguez. "Don't get all choked-up on me, man. I don't know that I'm back, but I'm trying."

"Yeah, but with her riding your ass, I know you won't be able to slip back into your cave in Trenton," Ranger countered, possibly meaning it as a threat, but I took it as a compliment. "When you're back from wherever you two go, we need to discuss your role at work. It's time for you to use those skills you've been hiding."

Marco nodded at Ranger and said, "Don't say anything to the guys yet." I was a little disappointed that it sounded like he wanted to hide, until he added, "I can't wait to see the look on some of the new recruits' faces when I enter the sparring ring looking for a partner."

Ranger threw his head back and gave a full belly laugh at the visual of Rodriguez easily taking down the young guys who would underestimate his skills in the ring, since they all considered him a computer guy. "Deal, as long as you make your debut when I'm around to watch it."

"Maybe you could join me. It's been a while since we fought," Marco teased. "The last time, it was a draw, if I remember correctly."

"Draw, my ass," Ranger bit out. "I beat you."

"It doesn't count as a victory if you cheat," Marco countered, starting to bounce slightly as though he was gearing up for a rematch.

"Having Tank grab your arms wasn't cheating, because we hadn't set any rules and you said nothing was off limits," Ranger explained. "You're just being a sore loser."

"Give me a month or so to get back in shape, and we'll have a rematch," Marco said, ending the debate.

I was temporarily distracted by the idea that he considered himself out of shape. My Lord, if he could get any more definition out of his muscles, I didn't think I'd be able to control myself.

Both of them called my name, interrupting my little fantasy of watching Marco shirtless, lifting weights in the gym, with only me as an audience.

"What?" I asked, not appreciating the plug being pulled on my internal movie projector.

"You were looking a little wild eyed there, Babe," Ranger explained.

Marco seconded his opinion. "The look on your face was making me think I might need to take off running. Am I in any danger here?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Not as long as you can keep up," I replied, walking past them both to hit the elevator call button.

While I waited, I heard Ranger say, "I always thought I'd have a problem seeing another guy with her, but after reading the files about her adventures the last couple of weeks, I'm starting to wonder if I could even keep up with her."

"Hell, man, so am I," Marco replied. I didn't even have to turn back to get that he had a big smile on his face as he admitted that to his friend.

As I stepped into the elevator, he added, "But I'm willing to die trying."


	22. Settling In

_JE created the Plum universe that I'm exploiting below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your tireless efforts as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 22 – Settling In**

I felt something softly touching my face. I was in a comfortable place, enjoying my sleep, but the warmth on my face was too much to ignore, so I forced my eyes open and came face to face with two of the most beautiful brown eyes. They had an abundance of lighter gold flecks in the color, making them look like they were blazing. I knew when they did that, he was happy, so I felt my smile appear involuntarily.

"We're here," he whispered, brushing a few curls away from my face. I don't know why, but it felt more that he did it out of a need to touch me, than to correct my usually outrageous hair.

I took a deep breath and blinked a few times, trying to rush through the wake up process and sit up from where I'd draped myself over the console and fallen asleep after ten minutes of driving from the Miami office.

Ranger and Rodriguez had spent a couple of hours meeting in his office first thing this morning, and when Marco came out, he had a few keys in his hand and a big smile on his face. I was told to pack up, because we were going on vacation, right then. There was a huge part of me that wanted the details of where we were going, but in the end, I'd decided to just play along. The last couple of weeks had caught up with me, and I was exhausted and ready to get out from under the microscope of being watched, even if it was by well intentioned co-workers.

I sat up and looked around, quickly picking up on the fact we were at a stretch of the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen. There was a square, two-story house up on stilts, wrapped on every side by a wide porch. I couldn't wait to get out and explore, so I pointed to the structure and asked, "Are we staying there?"

Marco's eyes glanced at where my finger was pointing, and then he nodded once. I hoped this wasn't a sign of things yet to come. After all we'd been through, I didn't think I could handle him bottling up on me again.

"Where exactly are we?" I wondered. Having missed all the signs on the drive, I had no clue.

That question got me a smile. "We're in Key West," he explained, before adding, "More specifically, we're staying in a house owned by the core team at RangeMan."

"Ranger owns this?" I asked, struggling to picture him relaxing here.

"Yes – along with Tank, Bobby, Lester, and…me," he admitted, looking a little shy about the admission.

"Is there a story to go with the house?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

He smiled again and nodded. "While we were in the service, we pooled our money and bought this place together as a poorly thought out time-share. We all knew we'd be living out of suitcases for a long time, and since it was dangerous to put down real roots, we decided to use this to hold the things that were most important to us. Over the years, we've all added to our rooms and used it as a getaway when we needed it. Ranger has family down here that keeps it clean and looks out for it when there are storms blowing through."

"How long has it been since you've been here?" I wondered.

"A little over three years," he told me, not holding anything back. "This place only holds good memories for me, and I thought you might enjoy being here."

We got out, and he helped me grab a bag, before walking up the wooden steps to the door at the side. He put the key in the door, and then turned back to look at me. "This isn't fancy, so if you don't want to stay here, just say the word, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

I used my hip to bump him out of the way, figuring his words didn't deserve a response any greater than the eye roll I gave him before turning the key in the deadbolt and swinging the door open.

Marco went to the security panel on the wall, entered a long series of numbers, and allowed something to scan his finger. I should have known if the guys stored things that were of personal importance to them here, they would use the best system available to protect it.

"Is it safe for me to come in?" I asked, only halfway joking.

He motioned instead of answering, so I walked in and took a deep breath. It smelled masculine and safe. The back of the house had windows and a sliding glass door giving me a view of the pounding surf. I followed him out to the porch there and noticed a big wooden bench with a cushion on it, just begging for someone to sit there and watch the ocean for hours.

He gave me the nickel tour of the downstairs, which had a large den, furnished with oversized chairs and a long couch, with an entertainment center so advanced it would have deserved the security system alone. The kitchen was beautifully equipped, even to a person like me, who didn't understand what half of the equipment there was for. There was a small bathroom to one side and a dining room on the other. The final room, behind a closed door, was a mini-gym. I should have known even on vacation, these guys couldn't go without working out. I really needed to teach them the meaning of the word relaxation.

Upstairs held six bedrooms. None were overly big, but Marco didn't need to tell me who they belonged to. The first room had two huge stacks of Marvel comic books – everything from Iron Man and the Hulk, to the Green Lantern and Thor. It was like a who's who of recent movie releases. One wall had been painted with a blending of olive green, brown, and forest green, giving the effect of camo. Since the other three walls were ivory, it wasn't overwhelming, but it certainly cleared up the mystery of who the room belonged to. Les defined himself by his time in the Army, so I knew this was his personal space. If that weren't enough, the little basket on the floor filled with action figures would have given it away.

The next room was perfectly clean, with two posters on the pale blue wall showing the muscular and bone structures of the human body.

"Let me guess," I couldn't help myself from teasing. "This is Bobby's room."

Marco smiled and walked across the hall to a room with the biggest bed I'd ever seen. There was a stack of jigsaw puzzle boxes on the floor that had been carefully organized in order of largest to smallest and a collection of old matchbox cars on the dresser.

"Tank?" I guessed, hard pressed to picture Ranger owning puzzles like those.

He pointed to the next room, and as soon as I saw the luxurious bed, I walked over, flipped up the comforter, and rubbed the top sheet. "This is Ranger's room," I stated, not needing to ask.

Marco was looking at Julie's picture, so I decided I'd use that as my justification if he asked how I knew. Giving up details about Ranger's bed at Haywood probably wouldn't go over well.

The next room was an experiment in white. The walls, comforter, and furniture were all pale, but instead of it looking too clean to touch, it just blended in as fresh and welcoming against the rough look of the bare wooden floor. I couldn't picture this is Marco's room, so I turned, completely confused, and hoped he'd tell me who this belonged to.

"It's the guest room now. Years ago, it was Bull's, but after he passed away, the guys sent his personal stuff back to his family and converted it to a guest room while I was on a mission. We all agreed if something happened to us, that's what we'd do. Nobody liked the idea of having a beach shrine to their memory, so we agreed to clear it out and leave a clean slate behind." At least that explained the white theme.

Instead of standing there getting lost in the memory of who had been here, he stepped back and pointed to the final room, which I knew now had to be his. The door had been partially closed, but it swung open when I pushed against it. The walls were ivory, and there were framed photographs covering a great portion of the pale space. I was instantly drawn to them, in awe of the breathtaking sunrises, the untamed shots of the ocean, faces of people that I knew were strangers to the person behind the lens, yet their expressions were so compelling; each one had a story to tell. I turned back and saw Marco leaning against the door frame, watching me look over his private possessions.

"You took these," I stated, not needing to ask. I could see it in the expression on his face, slightly nervous of what I would think of this piece of himself so openly displayed. I turned back to a picture of a bird soaring and touched the covering glass over the wings so well captured, you could make out the individual feathers. "They're amazing."

I noticed the breath he let out, allowing his shoulders to relax for the first time since we'd come upstairs. "I talked to each of the guys, and they're all okay with you going through their rooms while we're here. I figured you'd want a chance to learn a little more about them, and except for the boxes under Lester's bed, you have free reign."

"What's under Lester's bed?" I couldn't help but ask, knowing that since that was the only place I couldn't go, it would the place I'd most want to look.

Marco laughed and looked down to shake his head at my question. "I didn't ask for specifics, but he hinted that it was his private collection of magazines not fit for your eyes, but that had provided him with hours of entertainment since he was in his early teens."

"Hours of entertainment?" I asked. "So, these are like collector magazines because of their age? He doesn't want me to handle them and mess them up?"

My misinterpretation only made Marco laugh harder. "No, he's trying to protect you from his thorough collection of porn. I think his words were that some of them had begun to stick together, and he didn't want to explain to you why that was."

I turned around to look at anything other than Marco while my face went through the various shades of red. My eye caught his bed, and I noticed it was stacked with pillows of all sorts. There were the standard, three sleeping pillows, covered with two large ones with shams, but then there were all sorts of smaller throw pillows that varied in shape and color.

"You have a thing for pillows?" I couldn't stop myself from blurting out.

I nearly jumped when his voice answered from right behind me. "I hate having lots of empty space in bed when I'm sleeping, so I learned to surround myself with pillows to fool myself into thinking the bed isn't so lonely."

And didn't that answer just melt a girl. I desperately wanted to ask where I was going to be sleeping, but I didn't want to be too forward.

He put his right hand on my hip and pulled my back to his chest to get my attention while he asked, "So you need to decide if you are sleeping in the guest room that has never been used, or if you're going to help me to get rid of the damn pillows and finally get a decent night's sleep here."

I couldn't stop the shiver that went through me. "There's room in the closet for them?" I asked, hinting that I'd like to stay with him.

He didn't say a word, but walked around me to stand beside the bed, leaned over, and with one wide swipe of his arm, he knocked off nearly all of the pillows to the floor.

"I guess that's my answer," I muttered getting a smile in return.

We spent a little time getting settled, looking through the kitchen, which had been stocked prior to our arrival. Marco assured me it was from a fund that they all contributed to, which was used to keep the place up and prepare it anytime they wanted to use it. He said after all the years it had been since he'd last made it down here, we could easily live like kings and not put a dent in the reserves.

Once the initial blast of work was over, he turned to me and asked, "So, what would you like to do?"

Before I could come up with a response, my stomach let out a less than ladylike growl, answering him on my behalf. He grinned and took my hand to pull me behind him into the kitchen.

"I'll cook, you pick some music," he commanded, giving me a job I could easily handle.

I went to the built in shelving around the sound tower and was overwhelmed by the selection. I took my time reading them all and found a nice instrumental CD of jazz standards that I figured would work, so I put it in and eventually figured out how to make the system play it.

When I rejoined him in the kitchen, he was putting something in a pan of hot oil, and he pointed to a glass of white wine he'd poured for me.

"You remember I'm a lightweight, right?"

"Relax. You're on vacation, and no one here is going to take advantage of you," he replied, turning back to the stove.

I decided not to make a comment in return, because I didn't want the disappointment I felt at the knowledge that he wasn't planning on taking advantage of me to come through.

I sat on the counter and let my feet swing idly, sipping my wine. Marco seemed completely at home in the kitchen, and I couldn't help but notice he made something so domestic look completely masculine. He'd taken off his shoes at the door, but before jumping in to cook, he'd disposed of his socks, as well, showing off his sexy feet with the stair stepped toes. I was in a deep pile of shit here if I was getting turned on just by watching his naked feet move on the floor. If I saw him in nothing but a bathing suit at the beach, I was going to have to figure out how to control myself from attacking him on the sand.

I took a big swallow of the fruity wine and jerked my head up when Marco spun around, holding a plate covered with a paper towel and something hot he'd just pulled out of the grease. He set it down next to me and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked, wondering if my ramblings had been spoken aloud. My mind was racing, trying to come up with a suitable explanation for why I had been imagining attacking him in the sand.

He picked up one of the bite-sized pieces and held it in front of my mouth. "Open," he commanded in a tone that told me not to question him.

When my lips parted, he popped in the fritter, and with just one small sample, I began to moan.

"What is that?"

He shrugged. "It's a mixture of seasoned chicken and cheese with some veggies in a sweet bread batter."

He picked up the plate and walked back to the stove, causing me to complain at the fact he had just given me a small taste, and then taken them away.

When he returned, he set the plate farther away, but came to me with another piece between his fingers.

"This might go faster if you move that plate closer and let me feed myself," I pointed out.

"Everything in life isn't about speed," he countered, not really telling me much.

"What else is it about?" I asked, curious about what he'd say.

He fed us both, before shrugging, as though he couldn't come up with an answer he liked, and finally just gave me a list. "It's about finding things you enjoy and doing them. It's about savoring things that bring you pleasure, and sharing them with people that appreciate them, too. It's about a thousand little things that we'd easily overlook, but if we stopped and looked at them, we would feel rich beyond measure."

"I could have sworn you said you were a soldier and not a poet," I said when my mind returned from the Utopian place his words had painted.

"I'm a lot of things," he answered casually. "I guess I've never liked being pegged as any one thing."

I totally understood that. We continued to talk as he took his time feeding us until the fritters were gone.

He refilled our wine glasses and cut up some fruit, tossing it together with the juice from a lime and little sugar. "It's good on its own," he explained, sprinkling the sweetener with his fingers, "but it's so much better when you add some of good stuff."

Then he did something so simple that I wasn't prepared for the eroticism of it. He took the spoon he'd used to stir the fruit and put it in the sink, and then reached into the bowl with his thumb and forefinger to pull out the juiciest bites to offer to me. As I took them, the liquid would drip down his fingers to his hand, causing him to lick the juice away after almost every bite. I felt myself getting as wet as the fruit and wondered how I was going to survive a whole week like this, if just the simple act of eating lunch was undoing me like this.

I managed to keep from embarrassing myself until the last bite. It was a small piece of plum, and when he popped it in my mouth, I surprised him by grabbing his wrist and holding his hand to my mouth so that I could be the one to lick off the sweet juice. His eyes grew darker as my tongue slipped out to start at the heel of his hand and lick up across the love line of his palm, up to the pad of his thumb. When I pulled his index finger into my mouth to suck off the sticky nectar from the fruit, he shut his eyes and gripped the counter with his free hand. He looked like a man about to lose control, and I was energized at the prospect of pushing him until he did just that.

I hadn't been sure about this when I'd first woken up in the SUV and learned we were in a disserted spot on the beech at the end of Key West. But after only spending a few hours here, I was excited to think about what we might share over the next six days alone, with no interruptions.

When I released his finger from the warmth of my mouth, it took a few seconds for him to open his eyes. The silence was broken when he stared at me to say, "Stephanie, you don't have to worry while we're here. I'm not going to hurt you, and I'll do anything in my power to be sure you can relax and enjoy yourself."

"What about you?" I asked, not really enjoying the idea of him working to insure I was having fun, if that meant he wasn't able to relax, too. One sided wasn't my idea of a good time.

"It's been a long time since I let myself relax, despite spending so much time alone. I think watching you be happy will wear off on me the longer we're here," he explained seriously.

"Let's hope it happens sooner rather than later, because I'll have more fun if you play with me," I told him, realizing the double meaning of my words a little too late to take them back.

His finger traced my jaw line softly, before he smiled and took a step back. "I'll definitely play with you, Steph."

Then he turned to the sink and started cleaning up from our lunch. "Go," he said, ordering me out. "I'm going to do a few things to make cooking dinner easier, and then I'll join you on the porch."

I was torn between not wanting him to spend his vacation waiting on me hand and foot and wanting a little time to sit out there alone and just let go. Finally, I decided to let him boss me around this time, but swore it wouldn't become a habit.

The deck looked as though it was painted in bright colors at some point, but the salt spray and sun pouring over it had faded it down to light pastels of various colors. The rough, weather-beaten wood was both rustic and beautiful, and I found as soon as I sat down and sunk into the plush cushion on the huge rounded bench, I felt at home here. The view in this spot alone was more than worth the journey to get here.

When the sliding door behind me swished open, I spun my head around, as though there were a chance of anyone other than Marco walking out to join me. He sat in the rocking chair beside the bench where I was lounging and looked out over the ocean, before glancing back in my direction.

"Is this awkward?" he asked, as though he needed confirmation of what he was feeling.

"It doesn't have to be," I pointed out, hoping to put him at ease.

"Is it strange that we've know each other for three weeks, and now we're alone in a beach house by ourselves?" he tried again.

"We're adults," I rationalized, "with no one to answer to but ourselves."

Again, his eyes went to the water, before cutting back to look at me and speak. "I'm sorry, but the moves I had years ago seem to be long gone, and I have no idea what to do next."

"What would you be doing right now if I weren't here?" I asked, hoping to help him relax. I thought it was strange that of the two of us, he was definitely the more nervous.

"I guess I'd probably have a book in my hands, sitting where you are, reading," he said, giving me a good description.

"Then go get a book," I suggested.

He paused, using the view of the ocean to draw some courage. "I don't want to read." Then he looked at his hands, before adding, "For once, I want to stay in reality, instead of escaping into fiction."

"What do you want to do?" I asked, wondering if I was ready to hear the answer.

I was thankful for the steady background noise our location offered. The silence that seemed to be dragging on wasn't so overwhelming with the surf crashing and the sea gulls calling.

I had nearly given up hope that he was going to answer my question, when his voice broke through the noise behind us. "I want to kneel in front of you and slip off your sandals. Then I want to hold your hand in mine and take a walk on the beach until we're too tired to keep going. When we get back and rinse the sand off, I want to sit you back on the counter to talk to me, while I cook dinner, and I want you to let me feed you again. Once we're full, I want to come back out here in the darkness and share that bench and talk until we're nearly too tired to keep our eyes open, and then we'll go to bed, together."

"Then what's stopping you?" I challenged.

"You. I don't know if it's right to want to do all those things... Am I moving us too fast or pushing you too much? It's taking everything I've got to not say to hell with it and jump in with both feet here," he warned me.

I slid down on the bench so that my feet were hanging over the edge and I could rest them on his lap. "What would be different about what you want to do, if you jump in with both feet?" I asked, clapping my sandals together on his leg.

He looked at the shoes that had landed in his lap and smiled. "It would be similar, but I wouldn't walk far enough to get tired, and I wouldn't wait until we were too exhausted to keep our eyes open before suggesting we head to bed."

I leaned forward, surprised at how much easier it was to bend over my waistband since I'd been doing self defense exercises and walking on the treadmill with Marco. I lifted his hand and put it on my ankle, where the clasp of my shoe was located. "I like your second plan better."

"Is it too…" He stopped, as though searching for a word.

"It's what I want. It's what you want. There is no other adjective that matters. I've lived for thirty years trying to be what other people think I should be, and just this once, I don't want to give a damn about what proper convention says is appropriate. If it feels right to the two of us, I say we go for it. As long as you promise to keep talking to me, we'll be just fine," I assured him, loving the way the words sounded as they spilled from me.

It took him five seconds to get my sandals off after that, and then he stood up in front of me and held out his hand. "Would you like to take a walk on the beach with me?"

I looked at his hand, and then into his eyes, so open and honest in how he was feeling in that moment. I slipped my hand into his and marveled at the perfect fit I found there.

"I'd love to," I said, standing by his side and allowing him to guide me down the steps to the warm sand.

Before we could get to the path to take us through the dune to the water, he stopped, causing me to run into his back, since my brakes apparently didn't respond well in the sand.

He turned and looked into my eyes, taking his time to search for something that he didn't voice. The constant wind whipped my hair around, causing some to fly in front of my face. Before I could get my hand up to move it away, Marco's hand brushed it back and held it, to keep curls from returning. With his hand in my hair, holding my head still in its position, he lowered his face down slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull back or stop him.

Realizing what he was about to do, I decided to take away his doubts about what I might want, and I lifted myself up slightly on my toes to meet him halfway.

His lips touched mine so softly at first. Despite the wind blowing, the small contact between us was warm and lovely. He pulled back, only marginally, and my tongue darted out to moisten my lips, hoping he was coming back quickly. The taste of salt from my mouth was brief, before he joined us once more, losing the tentative, gentle edge that had defined the initial kiss, and moving into something fierce, bordering on desperate.

He was the one with enough willpower to break the kiss, and he placed his lips against my forehead, pressing them there for a moment while his breathing slowed down.

Once he was back in control, he rejoined our hands and pulled me slightly. "Come on. We need to walk and put a little distance between us and the bedroom upstairs."

I followed him, but couldn't stop myself from asking, "Why?"

His feet didn't stop moving forward as he responded, "Because you make a man want things he shouldn't."

"Who says you shouldn't want them?" I wondered, knowing we were here alone.

He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture I'd seen other guys do in frustration, but which seemed out of place on Marco. He dropped my hand, took a few hasty steps toward the water, and made a loud growling sound into the wind.

I instantly went back to his side and put my hand on his chest, slowly rubbing over his heart in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.

"You deserve so much more than an awkward guy, totally out of practice with even being civil. My mouth is tongue tied, now that it's just us, my body is practically screaming for me to take you upstairs and spend hours worshiping you, and my heart is fighting just as hard that if I lose control and do something like that, without us getting to know each other first, you'll hate me for pulling you into a relationship with someone as screwed up as me," Rodriguez blurted out in anguish.

I realized then that despite the great strides we'd made in Miami, the years he'd spent alone weren't going to be erased in a week. I also knew in this moment that he needed me to take control, at least for now, of the physical side of what was happening. Despite it being contrary to everything I'd been brought up to believe a woman should do, I knew there was something inside of me that liked calling the shots, and if it would help him to get over this internal war, I was willing to step out of my comfort zone and take charge.

I dropped my fingers from his chest and grabbed his hand. "Come on," I told him, pulling him down the beach. "You promised me a walk, and you're going to deliver. After we finish and get the sand off, you're going to cook me dinner, and then the rest of the night is all mine to control. Got it?"

His eyes got wide, as though he were totally unaccustomed to someone ordering him around. But instead of disagreeing as I'd feared he might, he tightened his grip on my hand and simply smiled. "Got it."

The relaxed look of his body and face in that moment told me I'd made the right call. We took off to the edge of the water and began to walk farther south. We would talk from time to time, but mostly, we moved in companionable silence. Usually I found it a bit uncomfortable to go so long without talking, but in this moment, it was soothing.

It was also really helpful, because in a matter of a few hours, I needed to figure out exactly what kind of end there would be to the evening, and then I needed to plan on how to get what I wanted.


	23. Accepting the Scars of the Past

_JE's talented mind created the Plum world I've been using for this story._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you so much for continuing to work with me, even when I bury you with chapters to beta._

**Chapter 23 – Accepting the Scars of the Past**

"Did you intentionally cook the messiest thing you could come up with just so you could watch me make a mess of myself?" I asked, after pulling a glob of tomato covered in some sort of green sauce from the fish taco Marco held up for me to bite.

He laughed, watching me attempt to clean the spot remaining on my shirt but only succeeding in smearing it around. "That wasn't my plan, but now that you mention it, if it gives me the chance to help clean you up afterward, I may need to revamp my menus for the next few days."

I touched his arm with just the tips of my fingers, loving the pattern of his muscles there. We had walked along the beach for three hours, only managing a little over two miles each way, but covering a whole host of topics and thoughts as we went along. For someone who claimed to be rusty at being around people, he was a great conversationalist, especially if we were doing something while talking so that he didn't have to look me in the eye.

I loved it when he said flirty things like that, but I refused to let him know, so I replied, "You'd better be careful. If I think you're doing it on purpose, I'll make sure you don't come anywhere near me in the shower."

Without missing a beat, he leaned over and picked up an empty plate to hold under my chin, while offering another bite of the taco to me. Smart man learned fast.

It took much longer to finish our meal since I wasn't feeding myself and Marco wasn't in a rush. By the time we were done and the dishes were clean, it was nearing ten, and the long day on the tails of the last few weeks had left me feeling exhausted. I had planned a whole scenario of seduction in my mind as we'd walked along the water's edge, but now that the time was upon us, I wasn't sure it was the right move yet.

Marco turned around after putting the last clean plate away and looked at me like a monkey doing a math problem. It's like he believed he could figure out what the expression on my face meant if he just stared at me long enough. Finally, he spoke. "You're exhausted."

I shrugged, touched that he'd noticed.

"There are dark circles under your eyes. How did I not notice that before?" he continued, almost to himself.

"Just to help you out here," I said, interrupting him, "a woman doesn't like being told how bad she looks. A simple 'you look tired' would have sufficed."

He lifted me off the counter and set me on my bare feet, before saying, "To make up for my uncouth comment, how about we take a shower together, and then climb in bed so I can read to you?"

I paused, wondering if I should mention what we had both teased about doing tonight, but before I could make a decision, he spoke again.

"We'll be here all week, and there will be plenty of time for that later. I'd rather wait until we're both awake enough to enjoy it, because I'm thinking it's going to take a while once we get started."

Listening to him talk about us having sex for long periods of time had me rethinking my previous stance of being too tired to stay up.

Marco spun me around and pointed to the steps. "I see that look, and I'm not buying it. Shower, bed, story – that's the new plan."

"I thought I was going to be in charge," I pretended to complain about him taking over.

Marco gripped my shoulders, preventing me from turning around, but stopping me so that he could put his mouth against my ear. "You can order me around – anytime, anywhere – and I'll gladly obey. But I suggest you wait to start until you've rested enough to completely follow through."

The shiver that went through me made him chuckle behind me as he pushed a little to get me moving once more.

Showering with Marco was an addictive activity. He refused to let me do anything, either to clean myself or him. So not only was I standing there as his warm capable hands carefully cleaned every inch of my body, but then I had to stand back and watch him turn that same efficient energy on his own body, slicking it up with suds until it shined under the florescent lights.

When he'd finished his work of getting us both clean, I stopped and looked at him as he held me to his chest with us standing under the spray so that we both were staying warm. I'd never met someone so genuinely happy to care for me. It was as if any little thing he could do for me brought him such joy, so I was hesitant to assert my usually overactive sense of independence and take that privilege away from him. I briefly panicked that over time, this might make me lose that stubborn steak I was proud of.

He pulled back in order to better see my face and asked what I was thinking. "You just totally tensed up. What's wrong?"

I was going to brush it off as nothing, but realized he had obviously stepped way out of his comfort zone for me over the last few weeks and answering a question, even if the answer was difficult, was the least I could do to repay his effort.

"I was thinking about my independent nature." I stopped there, unable to figure out the best way to explain how I didn't want to see it disappear because I was with him.

He waited patiently, but figured out what I was worried over before I could get the right words. "You're afraid I'll try to take over your life and over time, you'll lose who you are."

I blinked a few times, testing out his words, and knew he'd hit the nail square on the head. I nodded my agreement, hoping he would understand. Of course, the growing silence between us did nothing to reassure me.

He shrugged, while keeping his arms around me. "I can see why you'd think about that, based on what I've heard about your past. But I have no intention of trying to take over your wants. I may ask you to do a few things for your safety, but I'd never get in the way of you doing something you absolutely wanted to do. I guess time is the only way to prove it, but I love your stubborn streak, even if it drives me crazy sometimes."

"I'm glad I could give you something to worry about," I sarcastically responded.

"Me, too," he replied, as though I'd been serious.

"Wait... You _want_ to stress over me?"

I couldn't understand what he'd meant. Joe had always said worrying about me was a full time job and I'd been giving him an ulcer. Why would anyone volunteer for that kind of torture?

He ran his lips along my hairline and made a sound of agreement deep in his throat, before clarifying, "Yeah, I do."

"Why?" I asked, melting at the way every touch from him reduced me to a pile of feelings I couldn't figure out.

He stopped pressing kisses against my head and froze for a minute.

"Marco?" I asked, hoping he'd tell me what was wrong. The longer he went without answering me, the more worried I became.

He shook his head and let it hang slightly, only increasing the number of ways this conversation could turn ugly in my head.

"Can I say something that may sound outdated or crude? I mean, will you give me a chance to explain it before you get offended?" he asked, piquing my interest.

"I'll let you fully explain whatever you need to before I interrupt," I said, carefully wording my response so that I didn't say I wouldn't get upset about it.

"I like worrying about you because it means you're mine," he bluntly responded.

Why did his caveman response warm me inside, instead of pissing me off like it did when Joe tried to stake a claim?

"I know I don't own you, and I promise not to control you, but the idea that you are with me because you want to be means that you are mine," he continued, and then he paused before adding, "And it means that I'm yours."

I didn't know how to respond to that, but I certainly loved the idea of Marco being mine.

"When I kept myself apart from everyone, I didn't react to the injury reports, because they didn't impact me. But now that I know the difference, I don't want to go back to that cold place, where nothing mattered. It scares the hell out of me that I have so much to lose now. Bull used to say that if you weren't nervous at some point every day, you weren't living life to its fullest. And I've spent too damned long not living to go back now," he told me in a rare long speech.

Between the shower and his words, I was now completely awake. My heart was beating fast enough I could feel it, and there was moisture between my legs that had nothing to do with the steam swirling around us.

I turned my face to his neck and kissed him, slowly making my way up to his ear, and then back down to his collarbone. I saw Marco's hand move to turn off the shower, so I moved quickly to block him.

His chest vibrated with laughter, and he asked, "Weren't you ready for bed just a few minutes ago?"

"I was," I agreed, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder, before soothing the sting with my tongue. The sudden intake of breath at my action was a heady rush I wanted more of. "I'm still ready for bed," I assured him, "but I'm nowhere near ready for sleep."

I released the hand I'd stopped from ending our time under the water and moved it to his chest, running it down just ahead of my mouth as I lavished kisses from one shoulder to the other, completing my journey by dipping down to his right nipple and ringing it with my tongue.

The hand that had been resting on the back of my neck fisted, tightening his grip on my hair. If I had any worries about whether or not he liked what I was doing, that single act would have answered my concerns.

I used my lips, tongue, and teeth to work back up his neck to the sensitive place right behind his ear. While my mouth was keeping him occupied, I lowered my hand down his back and treated myself to a handful of his firm, sexy ass.

I'd often heard guys describe themselves as breast or leg men and tossed it up to the fact that boys were strange. But right now, feeling myself getting even more turned on just from the simple act of rubbing his rear end, I started to wonder if I was an ass woman. I smiled briefly at that thought, deciding it wasn't something I wanted to admit out loud.

While I was distracted, thinking about other parts of Marco's body that appealed to me, he managed to shut off the water, causing me to make a sound of displeasure rivaling the growl of a rabid dog.

"It was starting to get cold, and I didn't think what was happening needed to happen under cold water," he explained quickly, quieting me down.

I was usually very sensitive to the temperature of my shower water. If anything, I errored on the side of keeping it too hot. Strangely, I hadn't even noticed it cooling off. I supposed my internal temperature was high enough, it didn't make a difference.

He turned us so that he could step out of the spacious shower first, and then grabbed a towel, holding it open for me to step into. He slowly dried me off, being every bit as thorough as he'd been in getting me clean. When he knelt in front of me to dry my legs, I was struck at how sexy it was to see a strong man on his knees.

It was a pity he thought he'd dried between my legs, because it was suddenly wet once more.

He tossed the towel on the floor after he was finished and looked up at me without standing up right away. Oh hell, that look – that eager to please, willing me to give him a command for him to carry out look – was completely undoing me.

I ran my fingers through his wet hair, brushing it back from his face, amazed at how it just fell into place, as though it wouldn't dream of being disheveled. His eyes drifted shut, content to let me touch him as much as I wanted.

"Let's go to bed," I said, not the least bit embarrassed at the rough sound of my voice.

Marco rose smoothly, with a grace I envied, and took my hand to lead me through the hall and into the bedroom we were to share.

The pillows were still on the floor, and after kicking a few of them out of the way, he got frustrated and turned to lift me bridal style to set me on the bed. He stood back and looked at me with an expression I couldn't place. I would have called it longing, but we'd already clarified in the shower how he had me, so it didn't make sense that would have a need for reassurance.

Before I could say anything, he lifted his chin and said, "Can I take your picture?"

My eyes cut to the snapshots covering his wall. Obviously, he was skilled with a camera, but I wasn't comfortable with the idea of him taking naughty photos. Knowing my luck, they'd end up on the internet, and there was no way I wanted to deal with the fallout of that in Trenton.

Before I could explain my hesitation, he told me, "I'll only get your face, so no one would ever know that you aren't dressed, but just the way you are in this moment…I want to capture it, to remember it forever."

"Okay," I whispered my agreement, hoping it wouldn't so interrupt the mood that he would forget what we were about to do.

He moved to his dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out a camera that looked like it had enough controls to launch a nuclear missile. After changing a few settings, he turned on a soft lamp across the room, and then came over to the side of the bed and held it up, pausing to look at me with his eyes, before lifting the camera to use the lens.

"Just my face," I reminded him.

He pulled the camera down once more and assured me, "Nobody but me will ever see you naked again." As he lifted it once more and began to twist the lens, he added, "Trust me."

I felt myself melt at his choice of words, knowing that I did trust him. No sooner had I felt the warmth in my chest grow, then the clicking of the camera began. I could see his lips beneath the mammoth instrument and noticed that he was smiling slightly.

I dropped my eyes, realizing he was distracted enough that I could enjoy the fact that he, too, was nude, and I let my eyes linger in all the places I'd tried to avoid staring at before. I heard the echo of his words to me running through my mind and thought that nobody but me would ever see him naked again, either.

There was a five inch scar a few inches above his waist at the side of his stomach. I wondered what had happened to give him such a mark to carry through life. From where I was, I could count three gun shot wounds, assuming the small puckered scars that matched my own were for the same reason. Before I began to focus too much on the harsh reminders his body bore of the life he had lived to date, my eyes fell to his crotch, and my mind went blank.

I know men liked to talk about the size of their endowments as though they were all race horses walking among us. And I had to admit the genetics behind Marco were impressive, but more than that, I was struck by how it stood out from his body, exuding confidence and power. I had no words to describe him standing there, completely comfortable in his nudity, other than to say it was making my need to rip the camera out of his hands and throw him on the bed grow by the second.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer, and I looked back into the lens, assuming that was the closest thing I could get to direct eye contact at the moment.

He captured one final shot, before lowering the camera and saying, "Yeah…that was exactly the look I wanted on film."

"You need to put that camera down," I instructed in a raw voice I barely recognized.

"Do I?" he challenged, while walking back to the dresser to set it safely out of my reach.

I nodded as a response and turned to my side to pat the bed beside me, implying he needed to lie down. After he complied, it hit me that the light was still on. I was no prude, but I was used to this kind of thing happening in slightly less brightly lit rooms. I wanted to be able to see Marco, though, so I said nothing.

He turned to his side, suddenly looking hesitant about what I expected from him next.

Not wanting him to get too uncomfortable, I ran my finger over the round scar on his bicep and asked, "What happened here?"

He glanced down and grimaced, before replying, "Bullet on a mission."

I leaned down and licked it, wondering why I was turning into a cat – I'd never licked a man before. Then I ran my nose along the wet line and returned to kiss it.

I pulled back and reached out for the other round mark near the center of his chest. Seeing that, so close to his heart, frightened me. "And here?" I asked.

"Another bullet on a mission," he answered, his voice slightly lower than before.

Again, I lavished my attention on the scar, trying to replace any pain from the memory of what had happened with the pleasure of the present.

My finger moved to the long gash, and I looked at him expectantly.

He knew what I wanted and said, "A skip got the better of me with a knife." He shook his head and added, "That was entirely too close."

I didn't feel like arguing that a bullet to the chest seemed closer to me, and instead, I used my mouth for more enjoyable things. He shivered slightly when I blew cool air over the moist skin, and I wondered if he were ticklish.

The final round hole was on his right thigh and was bigger than the other two. "Here?" I asked, hovering over the mark.

He cleared his throat first before responding. "Bullet, but it got infected in the jungle."

Damn, there were too many close calls represented in these battle wounds. I framed his leg with my hand and the brace and gave it the same attention as the other wounds before it.

I was crawling back up, kissing my way from his thigh to his neck, when he ran a finger over a mark on my arm.

"How did you get this?"

I stopped to think, and then replied in the condensed form he had. "Fell out a window and the glass cut it."

Marco pushed me gently until my back hit the mattress and gave my past injuries the same attention I'd given to his.

Working his way down my body, he found the scars I wished I could hide, and stopped at each reminder of a knife, bullet, shrapnel from explosion, and rooftop tumble that made up my failures of the past.

I felt myself letting go of the sense of failure and taking on a feeling of determination to be more careful, to stay safe, so that Marco would never have to live in the fear of the next mark being more than my body could heal from.

I couldn't help but notice that despite him being in higher danger situations, my scars numbered three times his.

When he finished his tour of my body, he rested his head on my stomach, and I ran my fingers through his hair. It was a moment complete in and of itself. I felt as though he had made love to me, despite the lack of an orgasm. He had seen the worst my past had to offer, and instead of it bringing judgment, it brought acceptance. I saw the evidence of his battles, and instead of it making me want to pull him from that life, it produced pride for what he'd fought against and won.

I could feel his body relaxing against mine as he let go of the tension and accepted the comfort of my touch. It might have seemed that he was moving in the opposite direction from where we had been going when we left the shower, but it felt right.

I'd never known this level of intimacy, and to have missed this experience just to have sex would have been sacrificing something long term and beautiful for something temporary and fleeting. His breathing began to deepen, and I heard the softest noise on every inhale, letting me know he trusted me enough to go to sleep on me.

Strangely, knowing that he trusted me enough to let his guard and defenses down brought out a need to protect him unlike anything I'd experienced before. Here was a man who was asking for me to trust him with my life, but he was just as willing to demonstrate an identical level of faith in me. As I went to sleep, it was with a warm heart full of love for the man everyone assumed was eternally closed off, who was in actuality the first one to ever fully open himself to me.

.****.

When I woke the next morning, I was plastered against Marco's side with a leg over his hip, my brace on his chest, and my face on his shoulder. His fingertips were tracing a nondescript pattern on my left arm, leaving a wake of goosebumps behind.

I tilted my face up and opened my eyes so that his smile would be the first thing I saw.

"Good morning," he greeted me with a bedroom voice to rival anything I'd ever heard before.

"Morning," I replied, sliding my brace in front of my mouth before I spoke.

I was about to close my eyes again, simply because I was in no rush to get up and start the day when I was perfectly comfortable the way I was.

Marco must have noticed my intent to shut down once more and said, "Oh no, you don't. I need you awake."

"Why?" I asked, confused and not at my best in the morning to figure out any mysteries.

He chuckled, and then his hand dropped down to rest at the dip of my waist and began to move down, until it ran down my hip and back to skim my backside, before moving back up to my waist once more. "You gave me one of the greatest nights I've ever had last night."

"Sleeping?" I blurted out, not grasping what he meant.

"No, before I went to sleep. I've never been that relaxed in my life," he confessed, helping me to wake up as the memory of what we'd shared came back to me.

"Hmmm," I agreed.

"And since our first night here ended so well because of what you did, I thought I'd see if I could return the favor," he offered as explanation.

I tilted my head so that my chin was on his chest and I could see him better. "You did, last night."

"No, that was trying to return the gift of what you'd given to me. Now, I want to blaze a trail of my own," he said, the gravel still in his voice insuring parts of me were definitely awake.

"Can I run to the bathroom?" I asked, needing a minute before I could face what I thought he was suggesting.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking his arm away so I'd feel free to get up. "But don't bother putting anything on."

I slid to the bottom of the bed and stood up a safe distance away, before asking, "And why is that?"

He got up and moved so quickly to where I was that I'd barely noticed he had pushed us both to the opposite wall to pin me with his hard body. "Because if you come back with clothes on, I'll rip them off."

I swallowed hard and nodded my head that I understood.

Marco stepped back so I could walk down the hall to the bathroom we'd used last night. Behind the closed door, I rushed through my morning routine, and then took a minute to look at my face in the mirror.

I was grinning like a school girl, and something told me the next time I looked at my reflection, I might be exhausted, but my smile was only going to be bigger.

_A/N: Okay, I know this isn't the greatest place to leave a story over the weekend, but I thought it would help if I warned you that on Monday, this story will carry an M rating, so you may need to switch your rating catagory to see it._


	24. Trust Me?

_JE created the world I am playing in below._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your hard work and constant encouragement as the beta on this story._

**Chapter 24 – Trust Me?**

I opened the bathroom door with that goofy grin still plastered on my face and made my way back down the hall to the bedroom. As soon as I crossed the threshold, Marco surprised me by grabbing me at the waist and lifting me to the wall behind me, pressing against me with his body.

"What happened to the reserved guy that was nervous last night?" I asked between his kisses.

"He got over it," Marco answered, before his teeth grazed the shell of my ear.

"Oh good," I lamely replied, as my hips bucked against the thigh Marco slid between my legs.

"Anything else you want to discuss?" he asked with a little too much amusement for my taste.

"Yeah..." Something in me rose up to meet his daring tone. "Is there anything off limits for you?"

He pulled his mouth from my neck to let out a low rumbling laugh at my question. "Steph, I've done just about everything there is to do, and as long as it was just between the two of us, I can't think of a damn thing I wouldn't try if you wanted it."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Good." I picked up the challenge by running a hand down to my hip where his left hand was resting. I wrapped my fingers around his and pulled our joined hands up to my breast, releasing him when he began to cup me.

The rough skin on his fingers softly twisting my nipples was enough to buckle my knees briefly. Fortunately, he still had a free hand around my waist to keep me standing.

"You like this?" he asked with enough confidence in his voice that I was convinced he already knew the answer.

"No."

I surprised him enough to make his head jerk up from where he'd been trying to short circuit my brain by doing something sinful at the back of my ear with his tongue.

"Your mouth..." I had to stop to take a deep breath. "Your mouth should be on the other side."

His whole expression shifted, as though if I was being brazen enough to offer suggestions about what I wanted, then he was going to be damn sure he more than delivered. I should have known better than to meet his challenge with one of my own. The determination with which he attacked my breasts beat anything I'd ever experienced before.

Gentle suckles contrasted with light bites, keeping me from being able to predict what was coming next. When I started making sounds of pleasure and gripping his hair tight enough I knew it had to hurt, he started alternating, switching between breasts with his mouth, and using his hand to keep both sides equally engaged.

I was about to warn him that I was close to exploding, but he chose that moment to make a growling sound that was hands down the sexiest sound I'd ever heard. I opened my eyes to look at him, and the pleasure he was giving me, combined with the expression of focused rapture and that damned sound sent me unexpectedly over the edge.

I used my grip on his head to force his face closer to my chest and screamed his name. His thigh caught my weight when my legs decided standing was too much work. But his mouth didn't release the nipple it held captive, even when I sank down slightly. He used softer touches and caresses with his tongue while I rode out the surprising aftershocks of what was the most powerful orgasm I'd ever had that didn't involve any sort of contact between my legs.

When I relaxed my grip on his hair, he released my breasts and moved slowly up to kiss me. There was nothing tentative about his kiss, but it wasn't forceful, either. He knew we had all day, and clearly, he wasn't in a frenzied hurry to move on.

"Bed," I instructed when I came up for air.

Without comment, he picked me up bridal style and carried me back to the comfortable bed we'd shared last night. As he lowered me down to the mattress, I wondered if he'd let me get away with another forward suggestion, so as he moved away to climb in beside me, I lifted one of his hands and moved it between my legs.

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow in question.

"More," was all I could offer as an explanation.

He gave me that wicked crooked smile and nodded, as though I'd just asked for the very thing he most wanted to give. But when I tried to pull my hand away from his, Marco tightened the grip on my fingertips, telling me he wanted me to leave my hand on him.

I was about to tell him I'd be more comfortable with my arm free, but he repositioned us so that his hand was on top of mine, mirroring our positions, and then he went straight into my warm core with both our index fingers. In the back of my mind, I thought that it was strange that he was using my hand, too, but that tiny 'Burg voice was easily silenced by all the other parts of me that thought, _Oh God, this__ feels good_.

I opened my eyes and saw Marco on his knees between my legs, his eyes burning with desire, staring at our fingers slowly moving in and out of me. When he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, my hips lifted up of their own accord.

He put his free hand just above the small thatch of curls I'd left between my legs and gave me some pressure to push against. It was quickly becoming too much to handle. I knew it had been a long dry spell, but even with that consideration, I'd never orgasmed this easily.

My body couldn't keep up, so I pulled my hand back, thinking I'd use it to grip the bed to keep some kind of hold on reality. But his free hand blocked my retreat, and he pressed my own fingers against my clit, getting a moan out of me.

"Show me?" he asked, pulling his hand away so that I could use my fingers freely to show him how I wanted to be touched. I'd had guys say that it was hot to watch a girl masturbate, but I'd never touched myself with someone else watching. I'd never seen the point. Since there was another person there, that was their job.

But my whole world of past experience and expectations had been knocked out of the park from the moment he grabbed me at the door. And in this moment, I felt powerful and sexy. God help me, the combination of his fingers still easing in and out of me and my fingers touching the bundle of nerves, on top of the way he was biting his lip so hard, I worried he would draw blood, had shut down my mind so that I was only able to feel. And oh man, did I feel good.

I felt him begin to increase his speed, and when he started to hit that spot on each thrust in and pull out, I couldn't hold back the sounds of appreciation. When he allowed a third finger to make its way in, I screamed his name and softly pinched my clit, slamming my eyes down in the hope of surviving the way it felt like my body was exploding apart.

He slowed down his thrusts until my legs gave out and fell straight on the bed.

I knew we weren't done, but I was beginning to worry that I might not survive another experience like the one I'd just had. Joe had never been selfish when we were together, but he'd also never had a look on his face so intense, I'd wondered if just watching me was going to push him over the edge, too. It didn't feel like Marco was giving me a turn first with the expectation that he'd have a chance next – pleasuring me was a part of his experience, too. Obviously all my previously held opinions about sex were of no use to me anymore.

Before I could follow that thought, I felt Marco's tongue thrust in where his fingers had been. I hadn't even felt him move. He let out a long, low moan, rivaling mine over a good dessert, that made me open my eyes, unable to resist watching him. He sucked and licked between my legs, quickly letting my body know he wasn't anywhere near finished with me yet.

When he glanced up and saw me watching, he pulled his face back enough that I could see him lick his lips, and then smile with a satisfied expression. "I love cream," he rumbled, causing a new gush of that very thing to be created, "and this is the sweetest I've ever known."

He quickly flattened his tongue against my clit and slowly licked upward, causing me to draw in a breath from the unexpected contact there. He used that as a starting point and began to crawl up my body, kissing, nipping, and savoring every inch of my hips and stomach.

He softly reacquainted himself with my breasts, before continuing his journey back to my mouth and kissing me tenderly. Despite what felt like a wild experience just moments ago, he was so gentle and touched me so sweetly that my chest constricted at the beauty of the moment.

Straddling my hips, he took his time in exploring my mouth, making sounds of appreciation when my teeth pulled at his lower lip and my tongue licked him where he'd bitten himself too hard. The kissing was a complete act in and of itself. It didn't need sex to give it a purpose, because the way it fused us together, blended our breath and our hearts, _was_ the purpose.

When he pulled back, I was not pleased, but as he reached for the nightstand, I knew exactly what he was after. I shook my head. "You clean?" I asked, unable to worry about properly forming the question.

"Of course," he replied, still leaning over for the condom.

"Me, too," I assured him, "and I'm good on birth control."

Those words froze his progress to the nightstand.

"I don't want anything between us, Marco." I explained. "Just you and me."

He straightened back up and looked at me, letting out a long breath. "Steph, I've never gone bare…"

I knew he was going to say something about how it might make his endurance less than impressive, but I didn't care, I just wanted to feel him, and only him, inside me.

I put my finger over his lips and shook my head. "Just you and me," I repeated.

He nodded, and I watched him clench his jaw, drawing on some inner source of strength to give me whatever I wanted, before he lowered himself back down and whispered against my ear, "Just you and me."

He worked a path back down my body, mirroring his path up. When he pulled my clit between his teeth and moaned against me, I began to have trouble focusing and closed my eyes. The fuzzy gray areas in my field of vision weren't going to get better as long as he kept doing whatever he was doing between my legs.

Just before I screamed for him to stop teasing me, he pulled away. I could feel him moving over me, but I couldn't make my eyes open. He kept his weight from me, supporting himself with his left arm so he could use his right hand to position himself at my center.

With no rush at all, he moved the head of his erection in small circles, spreading my moisture all over himself and driving me crazy at the same time.

He pushed in using small thrusts, giving me no more than an inch, before withdrawing once more. It was both maddening and erotic, all at once. I wanted him to hurry and I wanted him to draw it out.

"Marco..." I could only use his name as a plea, hoping he would understand.

When he continued his drawn out torture, I couldn't hold back anymore, so I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him to me. He was able to resist me easily, which raised my frustration exponentially.

"More," I demanded greedily, not the least bit ashamed of my command.

Marco responded by pulling back once more and holding there, barely inside me and so far from where I needed him. My eyes shot open in fury, until I saw his expression.

With our eyes locked, he pulled that abused lip back between his teeth and thrust himself completely inside me, stopping his smooth movement only when his thighs hit my back side. He dropped his hand to the mattress so that both arms were supporting his weight. Even with the distributed load, his arms were still shaking from the strain of holding back.

Of course, the last thing I needed was Marco holding back, so I clenched my muscles around him and tried to move against him. I knew I had him just as desperate as I was, when he dropped to move an arm under my hip, changing the angle between us.

Marco took over, moving at a blistering pace, giving me what I needed, thrust after thrust, spinning me high enough, I began to fight my release out of fear. I'd never felt like this, and I moved my hands from him to grip the sheet, trying to hold on and make sense out of how an act I'd done many times before could feel so different in every imaginable way with this man.

I don't know if it was ESP or if he felt it, too, but Marco tightened his grip on me and spoke in his low voice right at my ear, "I've got you, Steph. Let go, and just let it happen. Don't fight it."

I could feel the promise in his words, and the grip he had on me bordered on painful, which only heightened everything else I was feeling. I had no choice but to trust him. I relaxed, focused on the feel of his body inside mine, and then little white dots began to cloud my vision.

I heard him call out my name as he filled me with his warmth. My eyes shut as he lowered his body completely down to mine, and I felt like the extra weight pressing against me only took me up another notch as the pleasure continued to roll over me. Trying to prolong his own pleasure, he pulled back and pushed back into me with enough force that I swore my orgasm kicked off anew. I thought how strange it was to feel the heat inside my body, and then everything went black.

When I next became aware, feather soft fingers were touching my face, tracing around my hairline, down my jaw, over my lips, up and down the bridge of my nose, and then across my eyebrows. It was like he was trying to take this opportunity without my attention to memorize every facet of my face. I considered staying still for a while longer so I didn't take away this opportunity that seemed to mean something to him based on how long he continued his exploration, but that plan was ruined when he spoke.

"You can open those blue eyes. I know you're awake," he whispered with a hint of amusement coming through in his soft voice.

I opened them slowly and couldn't stop the smile that came over my face. "Did I…" I didn't want to say pass out, because that seemed so romance movie pathetic, yet I knew there was a period of time that I wasn't aware of.

His grin grew at my lack of a question, before he had mercy on me and answered, "Yeah, you blacked out for a little while."

"How long?" This was so foreign to anything I'd experienced before that I could almost detach myself from it, like it was a mystery I needed to think through.

Marco shrugged. "Five – ten minutes. Not so long that I grew worried."

My eyes began blinking involuntarily. "Ten minutes!"

He moved his hand to rub my arm, soothing my worries away with his touch in a way that words never would. "It's a compliment, really."

That was a good way to look at it. "I've never done that before," I admitted. "But then again, pretty much everything about that experience was different from what I've known."

Marco rolled over on his back and let his hand rest on his abs. "Oh thank God."

I couldn't figure out his response. He didn't really seem like the insecure type. "What? You were worried about my past?"

He shook his head no. "I was worried that I'd just had my mind blown in ways I didn't think were possible, and if it was just another jump in the sack for you, I wasn't sure how I would handle it the next time we did that."

I moved a little to stay in contact, cuddling up to his side. "I'm not just throwing out compliments here, but from the moment you grabbed me at the door, that was amazing."

"Ummhmm," he agreed. Then his eyes opened, and he turned his head to look at me. "You are a controlling little thing, aren't you?"

I might have been offended, except his eyes had that marvelous sparkle to them that told me he was enjoying himself.

I pretended to be unaffected by his words. "I thought you might appreciate a little encouragement."

He groaned at my answer. "I knew when you did that distraction in all leather, you were a natural at taking charge. And seeing how you lead me through that whole experience without even being aware of it only drives the point home that you are a perfect Dominant."

What do you say in response to that? Thank you didn't exactly seem to fit the bill, and I wasn't sure my body would go along with me suggesting we try it again to see if it was a one time fluke.

Seeing my inner turmoil, Marco interceded and suggested, "How about we rinse off quickly, and then head down for some breakfast."

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was nearly noon. "Make it lunch, and that sounds perfect."

Marco jumped out of bed, as though all we'd just shared had energized him, instead of leaving him drained like it had me. I would have been embarrassed about the difference, but I was still too blissed out to care.

Marco did the ultimate considerate thing by leading me into the bathroom and turning on the shower, before kissing me softly and saying, "I'm going downstairs for a few minutes to start some coffee and check things out. Freshen up and jump in the shower, and when I get back upstairs, I'll wash your back for you."

He shut the door to the bathroom as he walked out, giving me some privacy to do the things I needed to. For a guy who hadn't been around people in general, but especially around any women, he was unusually perceptive about what I needed to be comfortable.

I was beginning to relax under the warm spray, when I heard the door open. I knew he was intentionally making noise so he wouldn't scare me when the door of the shower opened. I glanced over my shoulder to see him gripping the door of the shower and tightening his jaw.

"Come on in," I encouraged, unsure as to what had him so tense.

"I promised we were only going to rinse off, but I'm afraid if I get in there, we're going to end up back in the bed," he explained.

"You didn't promise anything," I pointed out. "You suggested a plan of action that I might want to alter. I want you in the shower, and whether or not we just rinse off or we do more than that is something we can figure out together."

I turned my head back to face the spray of the shower, leaving him to make his decision. I felt his arms come around my waist and smiled. Leaning my head back to his shoulder, I let out a sound of contentment.

Marco nuzzled my neck and placed a series of warm kisses there as he moved up to my ear. "You are the perfect woman."

I laughed a little at his turn around of my opinion of him. "I could get used to starting every day like this," I admitted, too happy to filter my thoughts.

His arms tightened around my waist, and I thought back over what I'd said to figure out what I did wrong. Was he feeling trapped or pressured because I'd used a phrase like "every day" about us? Had I said something that rang of commitment too soon? Before I could get too far in my panic of how I'd managed to screw this up so fast, Marco rested his chin on my shoulder.

"We could, you know," he replied, as though it held any meaning for me.

"Could what?" I asked, not keeping up with what he was thinking.

"We could start every day like this," he pointed out, allowing my heart to begin beating in a normal rhythm once more.

"I'd like that," I agreed, putting my hands on his arms to tighten the connection.

Silence fell between us as Marco reached out for the soap and began to wash me as tenderly as he'd done back in Miami. When he'd worked his way down to my ankle, he stopped, kneeling on the tile in front of me.

After a few seconds of him frozen there, I started to worry and asked what was wrong.

His dark eyes looked up at me with pure adoration. "Stephanie," he started, before stopping to swallow. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," I quickly assured him. "What's going on?"

"Do you believe that I love you?" he asked, without answering my question.

"With all my heart, I do. I can tell it in how you treat me and in the way you look at me," I explained, before adding, "I know it's true, because it's how I feel about you."

He smiled up at me, as though I'd given him so much more than he'd expected in my answer. "Will you marry me?"

My next breath froze in my throat for a second. My hand flew over my mouth to keep any strange sounds from coming out as my mind began to spin at speeds I didn't think were possible.

We hadn't known each other long enough to get married. What if he got tired of the way I pushed back every time he tried to keep me safe? Or what if I started to feel controlled and needed space? What would people say? I'd left town with a guy that didn't talk, and if I came back with a husband – that would make me even more the laughingstock of the 'Burg.

On the other hand, I really didn't give a shit what the 'Burg thought anymore. And the guys at RangeMan would probably understand, because they were used to me doing impulsive things, and the ones that knew Marco would know what a wonderful man he is inside.

I guess the only real question was did I want to get married, and if I did, was Marco the one I wanted to make a commitment like that with? Over the last week, I had grown to understand that the love I had for this gentle warrior was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. We understood each other, and from that came respect and the ability to know when to support and when to step back. I doubted he would ever try to take away my independence, and I knew he respected my mind, so I didn't foresee him suddenly trying to take over and control me. And if he did ever try it, I could probably stop that in its tracks by taking out that riding crop he was so fascinated with.

That thought brought a smile to my face, so I dropped my hand to allow him to see it. I watched his shoulders drop as he let go of the fear that had been building up in him while I was going through my mental ramblings.

"Are you sure?" I blurted out. "I mean, most people think I'm pig headed, impulsive, and more trouble than I'm worth."

"I'm not most people," he replied confidently. "I know you're pig headed, impulsive, and lots of trouble, but I also know that you are sooooo worth it."

I framed his face with my wet hands and answered, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

Marco jetting up from the tile to embrace me tightly against him. "Oh God, Steph. I'll make a good husband. I'll take care of you, and I promise not to cage you when you need to fly. I promise, I'll be faithful and honest, and I'll try to make sure you always realize what a gift you are to me."

Fortunately, he was cradling me against his wet chest, so he couldn't see the tears falling down my checks. "That would have made a perfect vow," I told him, keeping my arms tight around him so he wouldn't look at me.

"It's true," he replied, pressing a kiss into my hair.

"I believe you. And for my part, I promise to not ever let you escape back into yourself and to take care of you when you need it. I'll be honest with you and forever faithful. And I'll do all that I can to be sure that you always know how much I love you." I realized I was throwing around the love word so easily, when it had always gotten stuck in my throat before. I guess when it's true, it was easy to say.

I felt his chest vibrate a little, before he said, "You're right, that did sound like a wedding vow."

"Does that mean we're married?" I teased.

Marco grasped my shoulders and pulled back to look in my eyes. "In my heart, we are, but before we leave the Keys to go back home, we will be in the eyes of the state, as well."

I hesitated, to give my mind and heart a chance to see if that rushed timeline felt okay. It was hard to figure out what I thought, because of the internal sounds of celebration going on. I guess that was my answer.

"In that case, I want to celebrate with my fiancée," I informed him, "because I don't think I'm going to have very long to throw that term around."

Apparently, that suggestion worked for Marco, because long after the hot water ran out, we were still celebrating.


	25. Another Day in Paradise

_I deserve no credit for using the world created by JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your excitement and suggestions throughout this story as the beta._

**Chapter 25 – Another Day in Paradise**

"Are you sure we have everything we need?" I asked, tugging on the little ivory slip dress I was wearing to get married.

"Relax," Marco said, rubbing his hand up and down my bare arm until I quit fidgeting and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"It just seems so simple," I told him, worried that my luck of things usually going to hell in a handbasket anytime they seemed to be easy would kick in soon.

"I wouldn't call it simple, but if you want something hard enough, sheer determination will usually get it done," he reminded me.

The day he'd proposed in the shower, we'd barely managed to get dressed in time to make it to the court house to file for our license. There was a three day waiting period, and I'd needed proof of my divorce in order to complete the application. Marco had stepped out in the hallway for five minutes while I'd worked on filling in the little blanks on my part of the form. When he came back in, he'd asked for a fax number, and within seconds, there'd been a copy of my divorce papers coming through.

When we'd left with our license, we'd convinced the secretary for a judge across the hall to make an appointment for our marriage in three days. It had taken a little begging – from both of us – but she'd eventually turned on the computer she'd just turned off and had given us the only slot in his schedule that was free on Friday morning.

"I'm not the easiest person to get along with," I warned him for probably the tenth time.

I could feel him laughing, even if he did mute the sound. "Neither am I, Jefa."

I turned and looked at him, "What does that mean?" He'd been referring to me as Jefa more and more often over the last few days, and I liked it, but I wondered if it was appropriate for public use.

"It's Spanish for boss," he admitted, looking down at his fingers. "It slipped out when you told me stand against the wall with my palms flat and not to move. You were so determined to finally have free reign with me that I was making a joke about you bossing me around. Somehow it stuck."

"Am I controlling? I don't want to be one of those domineering women that controls you. I mean, I would hate for you to treat me that way, so I can't stand the thought of me doing it to you." I was beginning to panic again with the fear that even before we were married, I was already screwing this up.

Marco leaned over and put his lips right against my ear to whisper, "There's a big difference between a control freak, which you are not, and a dominant, which I hope to God you are, because every time you stand up to me in bed, I get so turned on, I can't think straight. I swear if you weren't calling the shots sometimes, I'd just lay there, unable to move."

"It's not a bad thing?" I whispered back.

He shook his head no so that his nose was softly rubbing my ear. "No, it's one of my favorite things about you. Do you know how sexy it is to be marrying a strong woman who knows her own mind and isn't afraid to speak up for herself? Shit, the idea that you'll let me know when there are things you want or need so that I can satisfy those desires is making it hard to sit here. And it's going to be damn hard to stand up without embarrassing myself."

"Mr. Rodriguez, Ms. Plum?" a kind voice called out from the office behind us.

We stood up, and I pretended to look away while Marco adjusted his pants, and then buttoned his suit jacket. When he took my hand, I gave him one last chance to back out, promising myself this would be the last time I'd voice my worries that he'd wake up and realize that while he was the perfect man, I was far from ideal as a spouse and come to his senses.

"Are you sure?"

He spun around and looked at me, narrowing his eyes. "The first time you asked me that, I thought it was sweet, that maybe you were a little worried that I'd change my mind, but now, it's starting to get under my skin. I've assured you, I've promised you, and I've shown you that this is what I want. Are _you_ having doubts?"

"None," I quickly replied, meaning it completely. "I just can't believe you'd really want to spend the rest of your life with me."

"I don't," he interrupted, making that fluttering in my stomach threaten to turn into a major storm. "The rest of my life isn't nearly long enough. We're talking eternity here, Steph, so you need to be sure you can handle me that long."

He was right. I wanted this. I believed him to be an honest, good man, so I had to let go of my doubts based on what guys had done in the past. Clearly, Marco was nothing like any man I'd ever known, so it would make sense that he wouldn't approach marriage in the same way, either.

"Let's do this," I said with confidence, feeling my heart beat stronger, but not faster.

We walked in, and the judge behind the desk looked up and smiled. "I was beginning to worry you'd changed your mind," he said, glancing at us each in turn.

"Gladys," he yelled, making me jump. "My secretary will be a witness. She's nosy enough to find a way to be in here for it anyway, so we may as well make her presence official."

I liked him right away. He reminded me of an older version of my dad. He looked to be in his mid to late seventies and had a slight hump at his back, but when his secretary came into the office, he stood, slipped into the black robe hanging behind him, and transformed into a man who had been given power by the State and knew how to carry that authority well.

He asked a few questions about vows, rings, and pictures so that once we started, he wouldn't have to stop again. I looked down at the brace on my left hand and knew it had to go. I hadn't wanted an engagement ring, but I definitely wanted a gold band on my finger. I pulled the Velcro straps and slipped off the brace, happy to see there was very little swelling or bruising anymore. It shouldn't have surprised me, because I had barely used my hand for anything this week. Marco had been exceptionally attentive.

I set it in the chair and stood to face Marco as the judge began reciting words from the order of service for a marriage. When it got to our vows, he took us through the original form, including the use of the word obey. He seemed surprised that we both wanted to include that word, but I knew it was perfect for us.

We added our own vows, which were close to being word for word what we'd said in the shower when Marco proposed.

The judge had us exchange rings and reminded us that they were symbols of our promises to each other on this day. We should wear them so that other people would know of our intent to share our lives and our love, and we should wear them to show each other that our vows never expired. Just as the circles binding our fingers never had to end, neither would our commitment to each other. Having them described this way made me proud of the shiny gold band on my finger. Marco slipped it on carefully so he wouldn't jar my still healing wrist, and then lifted my hand to place a kiss over the newly adorned finger.

"By the power invested in me by the State of Florida, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride," the judge announced with a wide grin.

Marco leaned into me and hesitated just shy of touching our lips together.

I whispered, "Just you and me," as a reminder of the pledge we'd often made to each other over the last three days.

Our lips joined, and that familiar feeling of touching the lips I was convinced I knew better than my own was there, but it was more. I knew that marriage changed a relationship, but feeling the strength of Marco's love pouring into me as his lips parted to allow his tongue to slip into my mouth was a new kind of intensity.

When he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "Wow."

Marco smiled at me and agreed. "Wow, and then some."

"Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez, if you'd like to face Gladys, she'll be glad to take your picture," the judge directed.

While I appreciated her warning us when she was about to take the photo, I didn't need to be told to smile. Something told me the grin on my face was going to be a permanent fixture for the foreseeable future.

We finished the technicalities and signed our certificate, getting a fancy copy for us to take now, and then arranged to have the official one mailed to Trenton after the State filed it.

We walked out hand in hand into the sunny morning, pausing at the top step of the courthouse and kissing again. This time, neither of us held back as we had for the sake of respecting the judge in his office.

When Marco pulled back and looked at me, I said, "You need to draw on whatever speed driving skills you have, because I need to be alone with you, soon."

"Si, Jefa," he responded, taking my hand in his and setting a brisk pace to get us to the truck.

As he pulled out of the parking lot to get us back to the house, Marco asked, "It was different after he said we were married, wasn't it? I mean, was I imagining that?"

I let out a big breath. "No, I felt it, too. It was still kissing you. It was familiar, and we fit the same, but the way it felt was enhanced – like it was more."

"Do you think it will always be like that?" he asked, voicing the same question I'd been thinking about, too.

"I want to know if it's just kissing or if…everything will be more, too," I said, trying to avoid the word sex.

Of course, just the suggestion was all it took for Marco's mind to go there. I knew he'd understood when he floored the truck and we took off.

We were both in a hurry, so the moment he put the truck in park, our doors were ripped open, and we met up at the base of the steps at full speed to the door.

Marco froze before putting the key in the door and said, "Will you stand here and wait until I turn off the alarm?"

He was asking, not commanding, so I agreed, although I didn't understand why it mattered. He went through the usual routine of hitting the numbers to deactivate the alarm, and then pressed his thumb on the scanner until it beeped three times, indicating it was off.

I watched as he threw his keys on the counter top and turned around.

He began walking back toward me, watching me with such intensity, until he stood beside the open door, looking at me. "My wife," he whispered, before lifting me into his arms and carrying me bridal style across the threshold of the house.

I wanted to be helpful, so I leaned back to grab the door and shut it behind us. Unfortunately, Marco didn't realize what I was doing, and since we were both focused on getting the door closed, he managed to kick it at the same moment I leaned back, and the end result was that it hit me in the side of my head. I buried my embarrassed face in his shoulder, knowing that it was my pride more than my head that was injured.

Marco, on the other hand, swore, kicked the door again to close it, as though it were the door's fault that I was injured, and then took me quickly to the couch to see for himself that I was going to make it.

"I'm so sorry, Jefa," he apologized, while kissing my head and rubbing his hand around on my back.

Then I remembered what he'd first told me back in Boston on our first day of training, when I'd challenged him after getting tired of his silent man routine, and I started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked, probably questioning if the door had hit me hard enough to knock me senseless.

"I was thinking about something you told me once," I said, before recounting the memory. "You once told me to go talk to the guys in Boston and leave you alone, because you were never going to carry me around, pretend to be my husband, call me silly nicknames, and kiss me when I'd gotten hurt because of my own stupidity."

Marco had the decency to blush at the story. "I was such an ass, it's a wonder you didn't tell me what to do with my convictions and leave me alone completely." Then he grinned, and I knew from the sparkle in his eyes, whatever he said next was going to be good. "But it appears I didn't completely lie to you."

"What are you talking about?" I sat up a little straighter to challenge him.

"I'll admit that I was carrying you, calling you a silly nickname, and kissing your head because of our _joint_ stupidity," he pointed out, basically making my case for me, "but I'm not _pretending_ to be your husband... I _am_ your husband, so I guess I was right about that part, at least."

"You are such a smart ass," I teased him, leaning in for a kiss.

It didn't take long for an initial kiss to quickly heat up, until we were making out like a couple of teenagers who knew their parents were out of town for the weekend.

"We have to stop," Marco said quickly, before sucking on a place on my neck that I was sure would perpetually bear a bruise because of his love of that particular spot.

"Don't want to," I disagreed, attempting to match my bruise by giving him one of his own.

A few seconds later, Marco tried again. "Upstairs."

"We'll do it there, too," I assured him, not wanting to wait long enough to handle the fifteen stairs that separated us from our bed.

"No," he said firmly, pulling back to get my attention. "I refuse to take my wife the first time on the couch like some horny kid that can't control himself."

"Then get me upstairs fast, because I feel _exactly_ like a horny kid that can't control herself," I admitted without shame.

A growl was the only warning I got before he lifted me up and took us upstairs, this time with great care to insure I didn't sustain any new injuries. And for the next two hours, Marco devoted himself to kissing every inch of me, assuring himself I'd survived my first injury as his wife.

We were lying side by side, completely spent, when Marco's hand moved to touch me on my inner thigh. He squeezed as a gesture of reassurance, but I couldn't resist saying, "It's not for lack of desire, but I'm pretty sure it's just not physically possible."

Marco laughed lightly, before rolling over to pull me against him. "Give me a few minutes, and I may decide to test whether or not that's true."

We stayed that way, catching our breath, finally helping me to understand the phrase "basking in the afterglow."

"Technically, our vacation ends on Sunday," Marco broke the silence to say.

I made a grumpy sound to let him know I wasn't happy about the idea of going back.

"Would you like me to call Ranger and ask him about some more time off?"

I turned a little so that I could see his face to better understanding what he was asking. "Are you not ready to go back?" I asked.

"Well..." He brushed my hair back from my face. "This week was to help us decompress after our assignment. But I thought it might be nice to extend it for a little while, maybe a week or so, so that we could have a real honeymoon. RangeMan allows staff ten days paid time off when they get married, so we'd both be covered, but I'd need to tell Ranger why we were staying."

I definitely didn't want to go back, and the idea of having a real honeymoon, something Dickie and I certainly had not had, was appealing for all kinds of reasons. But it didn't seem right to have Marco be the one to tell Ranger. If I was really considering him one of my closest friends, then I needed to be the one to make that call.

"We don't have to stay," Marco jumped in, worried by my lack of response. "We've been gone for a while, so you might not want to stay down here any longer."

I touched his lips, tracing them with my fingertip, to quiet his rambling. "I'll call Ranger. I want to be the one to tell him I've got a new last name."

He smiled and made no attempt to talk me out of it. "Is there anyone else you want to tell?" Marco asked.

I thought about it, and then was hit with a wave of guilt. "My family... Oh God, my mother is going to kill me when she finds out I got married and totally cut out all of the 'Burg and her chance to book the hall and show off in front of her friends."

"Jefa," he interrupted before I went too far down that rabbit hole to return. "Trust me, I don't want to upset your mother, because I want my source for little cookies to stay open to me, but I didn't marry your mother. I married you. If you want a big show, I'll gladly go through anything you want back in Jersey, but I liked what we did. It was all about us, and that's what I always thought a marriage should be."

I knew he was right as soon he said the words. I'd been perfectly happy and at peace while we were getting married. The whole time I was saying my vows with Dickie, I was convinced I was going to hurl. The feeling of everyone watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake, was the strongest memory I had of my first marital fiasco. But with Marco, I knew I'd always remember the way he looked at me with such love, the words of the judge speaking of our rings, and the kiss that had surprised us both. I had every detail hidden in my heart so that I could treasure it forever.

"What we had is exactly what I wanted," I assured him. "I'll call my mom and let her know and will probably commit us to a family dinner as soon as we get back to Trenton so she can meet you and see for herself that we're happy. She may be ironing the toilet paper by the time we get there, but I don't want to make a circus out of something that was so special to me."

My answer must have been exactly as he'd hoped, because he could have lit up a room with his smile. "How about I make us some lunch, and you take your time and make whatever calls you want to make?" He gave me a lingering kiss, teasing me just enough to wake me up once more, before saying, "Come downstairs whenever you're ready to eat."

He threw on a pair of shorts and was to the door before I responded, "And after that, then we can have lunch."

It took him a minute to get what I was saying, and then he looked at me and replied, "Lunch first. You're going to need your strength for what I have planned for this afternoon."

"You're going to kill me," I said as he walked down the hall.

"I hope not. Your grandmother would probably insist on an open casket so everyone would see the satisfied look on your face if that's how you plan on leaving this world," he joked.

The thought of Grandma Mazur telling everyone I'd died while having a marathon of sex was enough to get me up and dressed.

It took a few minutes to build up my courage to hit the number most used in my speed dial.

"Yo," he answered immediately.

"Hey, Ranger," I replied, loving the sound of his voice as always.

"Babe, how's vacation?" he asked, before I heard him shut the door, stopping all the background noise.

"The house is lovely, Ranger. Thank you for letting us use it," I said, always mindful of my 'Burg manners.

Ranger chuckled. "It's just as much Rodriguez's as it is mine," he pointed out.

There was a short stretch of silence, before he spoke again. "Something on your mind?"

"Yeah," my mouth answered before I could stop it, but then my brain couldn't figure out how to say what I needed to, so the silence came back.

Of course, since I was never this quiet, Ranger jumped to conclusions. "Has he hurt you? Do you need to come home? I'll fly down there myself so I can get you back up here and kick his ass at the same time."

"No!" I jumped in before he started ordering the plane. "It's not that. I'm fine, Marco is…great."

"Great, huh?" Ranger picked up on the change in my tone when I spoke of my husband.

"Actually, I was calling to see if it was possible to extend our time here a little," I began.

"Of course. You've got plenty of earned time you've never taken. Rodriguez does, too. How long do you want to stay there?" he asked, so willing to give me whatever I asked for.

"Marco said something about ten days off being standard," I started, uncertain as to why I was having so much time sharing my good news.

"Ten days?" Ranger asked, totally confused. After a pause, he tried again. "Is there something you want to tell me? An announcement you need to make?"

"We got married this morning," I blurted out with a smile on my face as I said it, despite my worry over how Ranger would take the news.

"Married?" Ranger repeated as a question.

"Married. I'm now Stephanie Rodriguez," I said for the first time, finding that I loved the way it fit together."

"Babe," Ranger said, before pausing. I was beginning to worry he was going to leave it at that and I'd have to figure out what that single word was supposed to mean. Before I could run down the list of possibilities, he began to laugh a little and said, "Congratulations."

"Are you laughing at me?" I asked defensively.

"No. I'm happy for you," he corrected me. "It took a minute to adjust to the idea of you being someone's wife. And if it had been to anyone else, I think I'd be pissed as hell, but with Rodriguez, since I saw you in Miami, I've thought about it. He'll be good to you. He's as faithful as humanly possible, he'll be open and honest with you, and that man will absolutely kill anything that even thinks about hurting you."

"I've already married him. You don't need to sell me on the idea," I interrupted.

"Stephanie Rodriguez," Ranger repeated, trying it out himself. Then he began to laugh even louder, as though he'd just been struck by a thought.

"What is so funny?" I had to know, because it was so rare that Ranger laughed like this.

"Tell your husband that I'll approve your ten days off, despite not getting the four weeks notice I'm supposed to get for honeymoons, only if the two of you have dinner the first time with your family before you return to work. If he can survive telling your mother and grandmother that you eloped and got married outside of the 'Burg, then I'll know he's still tough enough to work at RangeMan," Ranger bargained.

We talked for a few more minutes, until I began to get anxious to see Marco again. Hopefully after ten more days alone, I'd get this all consuming need to touch him under control.

We were about to get off the phone, when I said, "I can't thank you enough for this."

"No need. It's a benefit for working here," he said, deflecting my compliment.

"Not what I meant. I have you to thank for the fact that I'm happily married right now," I clarified.

"I guess I did force you two to work together, didn't I?" he said, taking credit for the wrong thing again.

"Technically, yes, but that isn't what I meant, either." I hated to disappoint him. "I was thanking you for being the first guy to support me so that I learned to trust again. If it hadn't been for your constant friendship, I never would have been able to trust Marco enough to love him."

He paused before responding. "Can I ask something of you?"

"Anytime," I promised.

"Don't forget when you're back in Trenton that we all love you. It may not be the same as Rodriguez, but we still love you," he said, which explained the reserved sound in his voice.

"I can't forget it, because I feel the same way about you guys. Marco is fully aware that he's a big part of my life, but he isn't my whole life. You guys have been there for me longer than he has. And although he has access to parts of me that you guys don't, he knows that I have to have my Merry Men to be happy. You're all my family, and he's just married into it," I explained.

"I like that, Babe," he confessed. "But there's no way I'm telling my men that you refer to us as the Merry Men."

"I'll bet they'd let me call them that without complaining," I challenged.

"Really?" Ranger recognized the challenge. "How are you going to manage that?"

"I'll bet if I had a reason to appear on five in my distraction outfit from Boston, I could get them to let me call them anything I pleased."

"They've seen you in plenty of hot dresses before, and you don't call them that to their faces," he disagreed.

"True, but they've never seen me in leather, with a crop and collar on my arm, looking for something to rule over and dominate," I countered.

There was a pause, before Ranger groaned. "Damn, Babe. I'm pretty sure in that outfit, you could convince me to let you call me Robin Hood."

"I'm holding you to it, Batman," I laughed, before we said a quick goodbye.

I decided there was no reason to call my mother just yet. I was starving for lunch, and more than hungry for my husband. I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt this fulfilled and joyful. I was married to the perfect man, I had the support of my friends back home, and I was about to eat what I was sure was a delicious meal. In the world of Stephanie Plum, that would be considered the perfect day.

Then I caught myself and corrected my original sentiment. That might have been true for Stephanie Plum, but in the world of Stephanie Rodriguez, it was just another day in paradise.


	26. Raise a Glass

_The world below is all due to the creative genius of JE._

_Jenny (JenRar) you have been such a gift as the beta on this story. Thank you for sticking with me and not complaining when I hit you with chapter after chapter._

**Chapter 26 – Raise a Glass**

"No," Marco pushed, not letting me get away with anything. "You started this game, and I answered all your questions, so you have to answer mine. Now tell me why nothing seems to be off limits, except for the dining room table. You know the more you tell me you don't want to let me spread you out there, the more I fantasize about having you as a buffet."

Thank God he was driving and couldn't stare at how red I was. I had suggested we take turns asking each other questions as a sort of blitzkrieg get-to-know-you game. We'd been honeymooning for two weeks and were on our way back to Miami. And while I felt closer to him every day and we'd spent hours and hours talking, we still didn't know a lot of the little things about each other that couples tended to only learn over time, so I was trying to overcome some of that. But while I was asking things like his favorite CD or color, he was going for much more personal stuff, because my only rule was that you absolutely had to answer the question, no matter how ridiculous.

Not being one to back down from a challenge, I looked out the window and tried to tell the story as quickly as possible – kind of like ripping off a bad memory band-aid. "You know the story of why my first marriage ended, right?"

"Sure," he replied, never forgetting a single detail I'd shared with him. "He turned into his name, lost his mind, and banged your arch nemesis."

I turned my head to look out the window so he wouldn't see the smile on my face over his abbreviated summary.

"Right, but he banged her on my dining room table. I walked in and saw her ass on my newly waxed, high gloss, cherry table, and I haven't been able to stand the idea of sex in the dining room ever again. What might have been erotic has been reduced to just a horrible memory that keeps me from ever being able to do anything on a table. I just…can't," I admitted.

His hand landed on my knee. He didn't move it; he just left it there, letting his warmth remind me that the mistakes Dickie had made were not going to be repeated.

"I'll bet with the right approach, we could take away the image that's burned on your brain and replace it with something a little more worthy of a fine piece of furniture," he suggested.

I shivered, as the picture of Joyce's legs in the air and Dickie standing there with his black dress socks still on passed over my mind once more.

Marco glanced at me, picking up on my serious doubts of his claim, and added, "Or we could leave that alone for now. How about bars? Do you have any negative associations with kitchen bars?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his attempt at a joke. It was so easy to be with Marco. He could be serious or funny. He was brilliant and so widely read, I struggled to keep up at times. He was tender and tough, and hands down the sexiest man I'd ever known. And as he reminded me every morning when he woke me, he was all mine.

"Do you think it will be different, when we get back home?" I asked out of the blue.

"I guess parts of it will be. I mean, I doubt Ranger will let us work together this closely anymore, so we won't be seeing as much of each other. And I'm sure I'll struggle a hell of a lot watching you leave the building without me. I'll worry – I don't think I can help it."

His rambling explanation touched me. He was being honest and giving it to me the way it was, and I respected him so much for his no holds barred approach to life.

"Where are we going to live?" I pulled the question in an opposite direction.

"I was hoping we could look for a place of our own, but in the meantime, I have an apartment on four, and you have your place. Either one would work," he replied, not sounding invested in one or the other.

"Do you think for our first night back, we could stay in my apartment?" I asked. "I mean, it would be nice to have you all to myself without the guys in the building interrupting to say hello."

"Right," he jumped in to tease me. "Are you sure you aren't suggesting your apartment so that you don't have to keep the volume down? This past week, you haven't been the quietest woman in the world."

"You weren't complaining about it last night when you roared my name," I tossed back at him.

Marco laughed and rubbed his hand up and down my thigh. "No, there were no complaints last night."

I got lost in the image of us making love for the last time in the beach house. When I focused on remembering every touch and every feeling, I could literally still feel his hands on me, stroking and caressing.

"Stop that!" Marco demanded in a firm voice, blowing the memory out of my mental movie projector.

"What?" I bit back defensively.

"You're thinking about us having sex, aren't you?" he asked. I didn't respond, so he pressed on. "You can't deny it, because I heard you moan, and it was the exact same sound you made last night when I put that ice cream inside—"

"Okay, I remember," I said, cutting him off. It was one thing to remember it, but having him say it out loud was a little more than my Catholic ears could handle.

"So we spend the night in Miami, and then tomorrow, Erik will take us back to Trenton?" I asked, hoping I had the schedule right.

"That's right," he assured me, and then added, "And don't you worry about the flight back home. I've got a few ideas to keep you so distracted you don't have time to grip your arm rest."

"I know the plane has a bed," I admitted, remembering from my tour the first time we'd flown on the RangeMan plane.

"Among other things," he replied, once more proving himself to be frustratingly good at saying just enough to pique my interest, but not enough to answer any questions.

It was pushing five o'clock by the time we pulled into the RangeMan garage. I knew Raoul knew when to expect us, and he had promised the apartment I'd used when we were here three weeks ago would be available to us once more.

"I'm going to miss this truck," I said, running my hand down the side as I got out.

Marco shrugged, as though dismissing it as just another truck, no better or worse than any other one. "We did have fun when we took it star gazing."

"I don't care what you say... It was three o'clock in the afternoon. It wasn't star gazing," I pointed out.

He stopped to raise an eyebrow at me. "Really? Are you saying that when I had you stretched out in the back, you didn't see stars?"

Fortunately for me, saving me from having to answer, the elevator opened, and Raoul stepped out with a big grin on his face. "Welcome back!"

We thanked him for the SUV, handed over the keys, and let him lead us upstairs. I wondered why he hit five instead of four, where our apartment would be, but I knew we were technically visiting, so I didn't want to question him and insult his hospitality.

But the moment the elevator doors opened on the main floor, I realized exactly what was going on.

"Surprise!" a massive group of men dressed in black yelled.

I stepped back, trying to get closer to Marco, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around me. "I've got you," he assured me, using words I knew I could trust.

We stepped out to the floor, and I recognized all the guys from our time here.

Then Romeo stepped forward and hugged me, speaking loud enough for people to hear. "Damn, Steph, you left looking tired, and you come back looking exhausted, but glowing like a nuclear generator. What has this guy been doing to you?"

I could feel my face go from cream to fire engine red immediately.

Before I could say anything to defend my honor, a familiar voice said, "Get your grubby hands off her. You know you aren't anywhere near good enough to touch a class act like Stephanie." Then I heard the unmistakable sound of Lester smacking the back of his brother's head, before Romeo let me go.

"Hey, Beautiful. Congratulations," Lester said, swooping me up in his arms and pulling me off the floor. When he set me down, he stepped back and looked at me. "Marriage agrees with you." Then he held out his fist to Marco, and they exchanged some kind of manly knuckle bump handshake. "I don't know if I should call you a sly dog and congratulate you, too, or call your sorry ass to the mats for getting the girl we all wanted."

"You'd better not call him to the mats, Lester. If any of you hurt him, I'm going to be very upset," I threatened them all.

Les kissed my cheek, and then walked away, pulling a grumbling Romeo with him, making room for Bobby to give me one of his bear hugs.

"Has he been taking care of you?"

"Oh yes," I quickly answered, wanting to be sure Bobby understood how much Marco had done for me.

Of course, since I answered so quickly, he took it the wrong way and laughed, "I'm sure he's done that... What man could resist you? I just meant, how's the wrist?"

"It's fine." I held it up as proof. "Marco won't let me do much of anything, so I'm sure it's better.

Bobby grabbed the brace and touched the ends of my fingers, looking at me with such intensity, I'd swear he had x-ray vision and was diagnosing me in the middle of the office. "Well, if there's ever something he isn't managing to do, you just let me know. Remember, I'm the one you used to come to when you were hurt."

"And you're still the one I'll go to when I'm hurt," I promised. I could see he wanted to say something smart to Marco about that so I added, "Because I know where your lollipop stash is."

Bobby covered his heart with his fist and dramatically called out, "You wound me, Steph. I thought you cared."

"More than I can say," I told him in all seriousness.

Bobby kissed my check and stepped over to Marco, just as Tank came up and lifted me high enough, I worried about the change in altitude.

"Little girl, it's damn good to see you again!" he said, not bothering to temper his enthusiasm enough to quiet his voice.

"You, too, big guy," I assured him, placing a kiss on the top of his shiny head. I had recently begun to do that, just to see what he'd do. The first few times, I could have sworn he blushed, even though I couldn't see any change in color. Now, even though he acted like he thought it was silly, I could tell he liked it. He was so big, people feared him from his appearance alone. I wasn't fooled and knew what a teddy bear he really was, so I treated him exactly that way.

Tank kept me in the air and walked over to Marco to say, "She seems to be doing okay. It looks like we might be able to trust you to watch over her."

"I'm right here, guys," I said, before losing my mind and blurting out, "and Marco hasn't screwed me so hard that my ears have stopped working."

The guys roared in laughter, and I tried to hide against Tank, feeling like even with his near billboard size, there still wasn't enough mass to cover me.

Tank set me on the floor to wipe his eyes, slugging Marco on the shoulder as he walked over to a cooler filled with beer. I retreated to my husband's side and instantly felt the comfort of his presence when his arms surrounded me.

"Was that a goal I should be working toward?" he bent down to whisper in my ear.

I nuzzled in his neck as the guys began to break up and talk among themselves.

"Babe," I heard Ranger say above the buzz in the background.

I jerked my head up to see our boss standing there with his arms wide open.

I went straight to him, letting him hug me and place a kiss on my head.

"Proud of you, Babe," he told me, repeating the phrase I'd so often heard from him.

"For what?" I wondered, knowing I hadn't done anything monumental since he last saw me.

"You let him in, you trusted him, and you were brave enough to take a chance on marriage. It doesn't get much bigger than that," he explained. "Most of the men I know aren't brave enough to attempt that."

He hugged me again as I smiled, warmed at his praise.

The elevator dinged once more, and I heard a voice I recognized. "Where is that girl that totally turned my office upside down?"

"Angel!" I yelled, running over to hug the head of the Boston office. "Are you here alone?" I wondered, looking around to see who else had come.

"Nah, he couldn't leave me behind." Scar stepped out and pulled me from his boss to give me a hug of his own.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, wondering who was running RangeMan if all the bosses were at a party in Miami.

"Well, we get together a few times a year at each of our offices. We were due for a meeting, and it was Raoul's turn to host us, so when the big boss said a certain little lady had gotten hitched, we all had to see for ourselves and wish you every happiness," Angel explained.

"Except for me," came another familiar voice. "I'm not wishing you anything. I'm hurt that if you were looking for a husband, you didn't come to see me." Needle was grinning from ear to ear. "I'm a medic, baby. I know things about the human body that would rock your world."

"Does that shit ever work in a bar?" I questioned him.

"Now see, is that any way to talk to your favorite medic?" he teased.

"No, it's not, but I didn't realize Bobby was over here," I joked in return.

The guys interrupted to pick on Needle some more, and I found myself being pulled back into Marco's arms.

"Hey, Jafa," he whispered in my ear.

I sighed with a happy smile, loving the feeling of being surrounded by so many of our friends. "How are you doing?" I asked, knowing that even though he was totally open to me, he still wasn't a hundred percent comfortable in big crowds after spending so much time in virtual isolation.

"That was much harder than I thought it would be," he replied, making me spin around to look at his face.

"Are you okay?" I asked, looking for some sign of a panic attack from the mass of people around us.

"Not the party," he corrected me. "Watching everybody pull you in for hugs, and picking you up, or kissing you. I thought I was going to have to fight to assert my place as your mate. I've never felt such animalistic urges before."

"Don't you worry," I assured him. "I know exactly where your place is."

"And where is that?" he asked, while pulling me closer to him.

"Wherever I tell you to be," I teased.

He growled in return, and then looked around. "Do you think they'd notice if we snuck down to four for a little while?"

"What's the matter?" I teased, playing innocent. "You feeling the need to mark your territory?"

Marco brushed my hair away from my neck and grinned. "Yeah, I'd say you're pretty well marked, Jafa."

"Oh man... Don't tell me you've only been married two weeks, and she's already ruling the roost," Romeo came up behind us and said snarkily.

"Hey, Lester!" I yelled above the noise of the crowd.

"Yo, Beautiful," Les replied, weaving his way through the guys to see what I needed.

"Can you do something about your little brother? I'm thinking there was a lesson on minding his own business that he somehow missed growing up," I teased, while patting my hand against Romeo's face, perhaps a little harder than I usually would.

Lester's face turned to the hardened fighter that people rarely saw, and he practically hissed at his brother, "You get away from her, right now, or I'm pulling out the big guns."

"What, you're calling me to the mats? I think we've proven I can hold my on now. I'm not the little kid you still see me as," he countered.

"Mats? Shit, man, I'm not going to call you to the mats. I'm going to tell Stephanie your real name, and then I'm calling Abuela to let her know you're hitting on a married woman," Lester responded, losing some of the intensity he'd been trying to hang on to for effect.

Romeo turned to me, put his hand over his heart, and said, "I'm so sorry if I offended you. Stephanie. I'll leave you two and rejoin the guys on the other side of the room."

"I got your back, Beautiful," Les assured me, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"All right, we're going downstairs now. To hell with whether or not the guys miss us," Marco said quietly, making me laugh.

"A little impatient?" I teased.

"No, a lot horny, and sick and damn tired of watching other men touch and kiss you," he honestly explained.

"You know, this is how the guys treat me. You're going to have to accept it at some point," I advised, appreciating his honesty, but needing him to get a grip on the jealousy thing before it caused a problem.

"I do accept it, but I don't like it, and right now, it's making me burn with the need to remind you why my kisses are the ones you want," he dropped his voice to explain.

"I could be open for a lesson like that," I agreed.

We were almost free and clear, deciding to use the stairs so the elevator didn't alert anyone that we were on the move. But just before we stepped into the stairwell, Ranger's voice broke over the guys' and said, "Everybody get a glass."

"He's about to make a toast," I pointed out the obvious.

"Where's the happy couple?" Tank boomed, letting us know there was no way to escape now.

We were pulled from our near retreat and pushed up to the front of the group, where everybody had a glass or bottle of something in their hands.

"We don't do a lot of fancy speeches at RangeMan," Ranger began, "but some occasions are so monumental, we have to take a minute to recognize them.

"Rodriguez, you were a part of the first Ranger team under my command. You came to Trenton when we were just getting started, and you picked up skips with such efficiency that the entire BEA division was handled by you. You've been through a hell of a lot the last few years, and I am sure that I speak for everyone when I say welcome back, man. If you hurt this woman, we'll kill you and hide the body."

Surprisingly, everyone was grinning after that threat of violence, as they raised their drinks and yelled out, "We'll hide the body!"

"And Stephanie," Ranger pressed on, despite me trying to make myself as small as possible against Marco's side so no one could see me. "You came to me a few years ago in the diner, clearly over your head, but more determined than any person I'd ever met. A lot of the guys thought I was a fool for helping you, but then they got to know you, too, and in no time at all, you had charmed us all. If you asked the guys in Trenton the thing they were most proud of, they'd say you."

I wiped a tear before it could fall and hoped it wasn't calling out for any friends to join it.

"Only a fool would miss how happy you are, and we are glad to be a part of this occasion with you. You took a group of guys and turned them into a team, and now you've taken one of us and turned into a family. We're here for you and will support you in whatever the future may hold. Anytime, anywhere," he promised, raising his glass.

"Anytime, anywhere!" the guys cheered with their drinks held high.

"Speech, speech, speech!" they chanted, letting us know they weren't going to stop until one of us said something.

I looked at Marco, and he grinned, but shook his head no. "I don't do speeches."

I tried to temper my eye roll, but I know I failed as I walked over to stand beside Ranger.

I kissed his cheek and tucked my hands in my back pockets to hide my nervousness. As they quieted down, I prayed my mind would come up with something to say. "Well, that has to be the most interesting wedding toast I've ever heard. You promised to do anything for me, including killing my new husband and hiding the body. It's not something I would have thought to register for, but I can honestly say no one else got it for me, either."

The guys laughed at my attempt to make light of their enthusiasm for protecting me. I looked at Marco while they were all distracted and saw him staring at me with such warmth in his eyes.

I held out my hand, and he came forward to take it in his, giving me the strength to carry on. "I spend a lot of time staring at computer screens, looking for little clues about people to help lure them out. And from the moment I first met this man, my instincts told me there was more to him than he was showing, and they wouldn't let me leave him alone until I got to know him. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know."

I turned to look at Marco. "I've loved you since the moment you let me in, and it gets stronger every day. Thank you for asking me to be your wife, and for accepting my crazy life and the cast of characters that comes with me."

The guys cheered, recognizing that I was referring to them.

Then Marco surprised me by saying, "It's no secret I've spent more time locked in my office and apartment than out with you guys over the last few years. I owe my re-entry to life to this woman beside me. You tried to warn me that she was like no other, but until I met her, I couldn't understand what you were saying. But I can promise you all that now that I have gotten to know her, I'd give up my life to save her one moment of hurt. Thank you for protecting the woman who is now my wife while I was still getting my shit together. I know part of why she's the amazing woman I love is because of your friendship and support. And while I get the need to let me know the penalty for hurting her, I have to remind you that it goes both ways."

The guys let out a loud "Hooah!" and began to clap. Who knew all it took to excite a group of men was a few death threats among friends.

I could hear them chanting for us to kiss, and it sounded like a great idea to me, but I would have wanted to do it no matter what they were pushing for. Marco turned me to face him, wrapped his arms tightly around me, and kissed me. I expected it to be a kiss similar to what we shared at our wedding, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Marco was staking a claim in front of the men he worked with. He was showing them the strength of our commitment and passion, and while I should have been offended, the feeling of his strong lips against mine was turning me on to such a degree, I had no leftover brain cells to take offense with.

There were a few whistles and cat calls, along with a shout or two for us to get a room. At that point, Marco pulled back, still holding me tightly, because he knew how unstable I would be after that intense of a moment.

"I think that's a great idea," Marco announced to whoever had suggested a room. Then he picked me up bridal style and began to move through the path that opened up in the crowd.

"Have a good night," Romeo called from his spot near the open elevator.

The doors closed on us, before Marco stated, "I can guarantee you more than just a good night."

Thank God we were flying back tomorrow, because something told me I was going to struggle with a lot of activity. Marco had that look in his eye that told me I was about to be thoroughly loved, so I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold myself closer to him.

As soon as we walked into the apartment and the door closed behind us, Marco lost all hint of teasing that had been present upstairs. He looked me in the eye and repeated my favorite pledge. "Just you and me."

It was everything I'd hoped for us, but this time, I amended it by adding a single word.

"Forever."


	27. Epilogue  18 Months Later

_The Plum Universe below is all the creation of JE. I deserve no credit at all._

_Jenny (JenRar) I don't have the right words to thank you for taking on this tart story as the beta and working so hard to help me complete it. Any moments that have shined have been in great part due to your skills._

**Chapter 27 – Epilogue – Eighteen Months Later**

"Hey, Williams. Can you help me move some chairs?" I asked the unassuming man who had been my partner for the last year.

"Where do you want them?" he asked, always so eager to help.

I looked around my parents' backyard and pointed to the shady area under the big oak tree. "I guess over there. We need to be sure there's enough seating for everyone to eat."

We set about working, with Williams bringing the folding chairs to me to set-up and arrange.

"Hola, chica!" came a familiar voice from the back door of my parents' house.

I rushed over to Hector and kissed the tears on his cheek, thanking him for coming to help get ready for the barbeque later that evening. I asked him to help my partner finish setting up the seating and smiled when he walked over and kissed the man I'd set him up with eleven months ago.

I watched them work and smiled at the obvious affection between them. I couldn't understand a thing they were saying, since it was all in Spanish, but I didn't need to know the words to hear the love that infused it.

After our honeymoon and return to Trenton, Ranger told Marco and me that we could never work together as partners, but he would allow us to pick who we wanted to work with. I agreed to come on to RangeMan full time after a few months of pressure from the guys, which meant I would never be on my own rounding up skips. Marco couldn't hide his relief at that fact, so I'd given in pretty easily.

Of course, picking a partner had turned out to be harder than I'd thought. I hadn't been able to bear hurting someone's feelings by showing a preference of one guy over the other. In the end, Ranger had suggested bringing someone in to fill the vacant spot when Brent moved to Miami. I'd begun to think about my time there and had remembered the young man with the hard past, and I knew I'd found the solution.

It turned out that we made a wonderful team, and after a few sessions in the gym with Marco, my husband had come to trust Williams out with me, as well. It had only taken a few surveillance shifts for me to get to the truth that Williams had been intrigued by Hector and wanted to get to know him better, but didn't know how to go about it. I'd set about fixing them up, and within a month, they were as much of an item at RangeMan as Marco and I were.

"Stephanie," my mom called from the kitchen, "I've made ten dozen cookies. Do you think that will be enough?"

"Have you pulled any to the side for Marco to have without having to fight for them?" I asked in response.

She pulled out one of her signature tins and smiled at me. "I wasn't including his in the total count."

I grinned at my mother and couldn't stop myself from going to her side of the counter and hugging her. She patted my back briefly, before pulling away from the sign of affection. We loved each, but my mom didn't feel the need to be too demonstrative about it. Her cookies said what her words never could.

"I'm convinced he asked me to marry him because he thought that would give him open access to your desserts," I said, flattering her.

"I'm glad I could play some role, since we didn't get to see the wedding," she teased with a grin.

My parents had been surprisingly wonderful about my elopement in Florida. I could tell my mother wished she had been there, but that was overshadowed by her relief and joy at the fact that I was so happily married. My dad approved, and the two of them would escape to the garage every time we came over so that neither of them had to endure the circus that seemed to happen when Valerie's brood arrived.

There was a pounding at the door that I knew could only be made from Tank's fist. I opened the front door and stood back, letting the guys in and directing them to the backyard. I got hugs from everyone that passed by and walked through.

When Ranger came in, he shut the door and looked around. "The guest of honor not here?"

"No, the birthday boy hasn't gotten back from Boston, where our slave driver boss sent him," I pretended to complain.

Ranger smiled. "I got a call from Erik about ten minutes ago that Rodriguez was on his way."

We walked to the backyard to join everyone else in time to hear Lester and Bobby arguing about the best way to light the charcoal for the grill.

"I'm telling you, man. They need to be in a big pile," Bobby said, correcting Lester, who wanted the briquettes flat on the bottom.

"You going to intervene?" Ranger asked me.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I'm thinking me and an open flame is just tempting fate for a call to the fire department. This is one debate someone else will have to settle."

Ranger pushed the cuffs of his long sleeve tee higher up his arms and said, "Step aside, boys, and let me show you how a real man runs a grill."

I was so distracted watching them argue that I jumped when a pair of warm arms surrounded me from behind.

"Hey, Jefa. Miss me?"

I spun around and kissed him, letting my actions answer his question. I rested my head on his shoulder after we pulled apart, not willing to let him go after being apart for the past four days. "Welcome home, Marco."

He sighed, obviously happy to be back, and knelt in front of me, placing his hands on my stomach. "Hey, baby. Did you miss Papa?"

I had long gotten over my embarrassment of people touching my stomach, and whenever Marco did it, I was so touched, I'd never ask him to stop. Something about the way my big tough guy altered in front of my eyes into a tender pile of affection reinforced my joy at our impending parenthood.

"Mom has something for you," I told him, pulling his attention from my newly expanded stomach.

Marco stood up and turned around just as my mother appeared in the door way. "Hey, Mom." He greeted her with a kiss to the cheek. "I left my tin on the counter in the kitchen. Thanks for the care package while I was gone."

She blushed a little at his attention, and then patted the hand on her shoulder. "I filled up a new tin for you. Don't forget it before you leave tonight."

I shook my head, still at a loss about how well those two got along. From the moment I'd introduced him as my husband, she had accepted him. One night, I'd come over when he was working a late shift and told her the story of his life – or at least, the highlights about his family – and from then on, she had adopted him, determined that he never go another day without the love of a mother.

We went to the backyard, and Marco pulled me into his lap in a chair as far as possible from the grill and the flames.

"I'm glad you're home," I admitted to him as he rubbed my stomach in soft circles.

"Me, too," he admitted, nuzzling my neck to place warm kisses there and kicking my already overactive hormones into overdrive.

"You need to stop," I warned him. "We have to stay for dinner and cake, so you can't deliver on what you're starting for at least a couple of hours."

He chuckled, and then redoubled his efforts, apparently ignoring my instructions. "Who says I can't deliver on it?"

"Not here, you can't," I assured him, before he decided to prove me different.

"A minor alteration to our location is all it would take," he pushed.

I let a moan escape, without the ability to stop it. He was entirely too good at pushing my buttons, and I knew if he didn't stop soon, I'd agree to anything he wanted.

"Here are the burgers," my mother announced, handing over the platter of meat to Ranger to cook. "They'll only take fifteen minutes, and I'll have everything else ready then, too."

He nodded, understanding what she was saying – if he dried out the meat, it wasn't her fault, because everything else was going to be ready on time.

"We've got fifteen minutes," Marco growled in my ear.

"Yeah," I said sadly. "Fifteen minutes isn't long enough."

"The hell it isn't," he disagreed, picking me up and rushing us into the house, upstairs to what used to be my room, and slammed the door closed.

"If you want to be able to wear that shirt tonight, you'll take if off," he instructed, gripping the door, as though it were the only thing holding him in place.

Recognizing he needed to feel connected after his time away, I stopped fighting it and lifted my red maternity shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor, before pushing the skirt I was wearing down and stepping out of it, as well.

"Oh, Steph…" he started, unable to finish whatever thought was running through his head.

I met him in the middle as he pushed away from the door, and the instant our hands touched, it was a blur of movement, grabbing, pulling, touching, pleasuring. He had my panties off within seconds and wasted no time thrusting into me.

I bit his shoulder to hold back the scream that threatened to escape at the feel of him completely filling me. "Oh, God…I've missed you," I finally managed to relax enough to say.

As he set a pace that was definitely going to meet my mother's condition of eating in fifteen minutes, I heard him say, "Just you and me." He repeated it over and over again.

A year ago, Ranger had made Marco the Chief Planning Officer for RangeMan, so he often traveled to the other offices to help them plan high profile or large bond take downs to better our chances of success. It was a great job for him, but when he was away from me, he struggled to not withdrawal. I couldn't help but notice the need that poured from him whenever he returned home from one of his trips. There was a desperation to reconnect, as though his strength for facing life was drawn from somewhere deep within me.

I gladly complied, as it thrilled me to be able to help him, and I honestly always loved the reconnection after being apart. Something in my soul needed the reassurance that my other half was safely back in my arms.

"I promise, tonight, I'll take good care of you, Jefa. I'll do anything you want, but I can't hold back now," he mumbled an apology, only heightening my pleasure.

I didn't know how to convince him that when he was so turned on that he couldn't control himself, it had a direct effect on me, as well. "Let go," I assured him, pulling him closer to me and meeting him thrust for thrust.

He kissed me hard enough to take my breath away as I slammed my eyes shut and exploded. Marco slowed down and spilled his warmth into me, shivering with his own release.

He pulled himself back together before I could and looked over to ask if I was okay.

"No," I frightened him by responding. "I'm pissed off that I have to get up and rejoin that party, when all I want to do is go to sleep with you."

"Do you need to rest?" he asked, constantly worried about my well being since we found out I was pregnant.

"I don't need to," I assured him, before clarifying, "I just want to be alone with my husband."

Marco kissed me once more, warmly caressing my lips with his own.

He stood up and pulled his clothes on efficiently, before tenderly helping to dress me.

I hugged him once more to me before he opened the door for us to join the party in his honor downstairs. "Happy birthday, Marco," I told him happily. "I can't wait for you to unwrap your present."

"Please tell me my present is you dressed in leather," he groaned.

I laughed at the idea of my newly rounded belly in leather. "I can't tell you that, but you're thinking in the right direction."

"Let's make this the fastest birthday party ever," he directed, opening the door and pulling me downstairs. "My wish when I blow out the candles will be an early end to the celebration and a long night alone with my wife."

"You were going to get the second part anyway, so there's no reason to waste your birthday wish on me," I pointed out as we slipped back into the backyard without being noticed.

My mom placed the last side dish on the eight foot table she'd turned into a buffet server and announced dinner was ready. We stayed in our seats, waiting until Ranger, Lester, Bobby, Tank, Williams, Hector, and Cal – Marco's current partner, had all gone through, and then we followed my parents through to get our own plates.

Two hours later, I was helping my mom stack the plates in the kitchen as the last of the guests left.

Marco came in from carrying the trash bags to the garbage and sat on a stool against the side of the counter. "Thank you for a great dinner, Mom," he told her, making her smile even with her back to him.

She'd never admit it, but she loved it when he called her Mom.

Dad was over the moon with a male in the family he could relate to. Albert might be a good husband to Valerie, but he wasn't exactly Dad's kind of guy. From the moment we shared the news of our pregnancy, Dad had taken to introducing people to Marco as his son-in-law and the man who was going to give him his first grandson. I had just found out the sex of the baby while Marco was on assignment this week, so I knew it was just my Dad projecting his own hope for the future.

Ten minutes later, we were driving to our house, halfway between the 'Burg and Haywood. We'd managed to find a house that met all our requirements and Ranger's security walkthrough after searching for nearly a year. It had taken a few weeks for Hector to wire it up to everyone's specifications, but eventually, we were able to move in. Apparently, we'd been really happy with our new place, because five weeks later, I'd found out I was pregnant. We had just decided to start trying, assuming it would take us a while, and had been shocked that we'd apparently gotten lucky on our first try.

Marco set the alarms, and I put the leftovers from Mom in the fridge and took off my shoes to free my tired feet. I hated the effect this pregnancy was having on my energy level, but I knew it would be worth it when our baby came into the world, so I tried to keep my complaining to a minimum.

I waited until he'd done the sweep that I knew was necessary for him to relax, and once he'd declared the house was all clear, he pulled my back to his chest to hold me to him.

"Now, about my present," he began in his gravely sexy voice.

I had to stretch away from him, bending at the waist, since he was gripping my hips, to reach the small package I'd wrapped for him to open.

"Oh yeah," he groaned as I bent over and stretched, lifting my rear end slightly in front of him. "Happy birthday to me," he teased some more.

I finally reached the present and stood up to give it to him.

"I hope you like it," I told him as I gave him the present, nervous that I should have tried harder to find him a real gift.

Never one to take his time with presents, Marco ripped the paper off the box and stared at the small silver frame containing the picture of the ultrasound from yesterday. "What is this?" he asked, not looking away from the frame.

I ran my finger over the picture I now knew so well. "This is the first picture we have of your son."

"My…son?" he asked, swallowing back emotion between words, and then reaching out for a stool to sit on, as though his legs couldn't hold up the extra weight of the picture.

I ran my fingers through his dark hair and kissed the top of his head, standing beside him protectively. "We're having a baby boy," I rephrased, hoping that would help him to accept the news a little easier.

Marco wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer still. "It's not just you and me anymore, is it?"

I softly laughed at his first concern since I'd announced we were having a baby. "Of course it is. This little boy is a part of you and a part of me. It's just that who we are is expanding by one. But for all time, it will be just you and me."

My warped explanation seemed to satisfy him enough to stand the picture up, and then turn to pull me to stand between his legs. "My son," he repeated, rubbing my belly and leaning down to kiss the shirt over my little bump.

"It's hard to picture now, since we still have sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and teething to get through first, but this little boy is going to grow up big and strong and have a life of his own one day. And once he's all grown up and making his way in the world, it will still be you and me, Marco," I assured him, feeling my love continue to deepen for the man who held me so securely.

"You'll make sure I'm a good papa, right?" he asked, uncertain.

"You're already a great papa," I promised. "You love me, and you'll love this piece of me, too."

He smiled and looked back up to my face. "Yeah, I can do that."

Come on," I said, taking his hand in mine. "We've still got a couple of hours left in your birthday, and there's something else you need to unwrap upstairs."

He raised a single eyebrow at me, clearly interested in whatever I had in mind.

"Give me a five minute head start to change," I instructed.

"I can help you change," he suggested. "Better yet, I can just take those clothes off of you, and we can jump right to the good stuff."

I held my hand up to stop him when he stood up. Not breaking eye contact, I took a few steps to the side where we hung our keys on little hooks and picked up the item I'd placed there before leaving home this morning. I knew exactly how to cut the crop through the air to make it smack loudly against my hand for the greatest effect.

"I said to give me a five minute head start, and I meant it."

Marco didn't so much sit back down as he did stagger and collapse against the stool. "You still have the crop?" he asked, his eyes getting larger as he focused on my hands.

"I don't think I gave you permission to ask any questions," I pointed out, reaching over to run the end of the crop up his leg.

I had never tried giving him the full Dominant treatment like he'd coached me in Boston, and for some reason, I felt like trying it out tonight. He often let me take control when we had sex, but I'd never assumed a position of complete dominance, and had begun to wonder what it would be like.

I could see the outline of an erection against the zipper of his jeans, so I had a sneaking suspicion that it was going to be one hell of night.

Moving the crop under his chin to lift his face, I looked him in the eye, and then glanced at the clock on the wall. "In five minutes, you will walk up those stairs and sit on the end of the bed to wait for my next instruction. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he replied with that growl I loved in his voice.

Wanting to take this as far as he'd let me, I asked, "Yes, what?"

He couldn't stop my favorite crooked grin from coming over his face. "Yes, Jefa."

"That's right. Don't forget who's the boss here," I warned, struggling to keep my face from matching his.

It only took me two minutes to rip my clothes off and slip into the nightie I'd found at Fredericks of Hollywood. I'd needed something a little more than what Victoria's Secret could supply, and when I found this lace teddy with leather strips woven in, I knew it was the perfect outfit for tonight. It was loose enough to accommodate my growing belly, yet I still felt sexy in it. Plus, there were little ties all over it that I intended to have Marco undo with his teeth.

I leaned over the counter in the bathroom to fluff my hair and wait for Marco to come up and saw the smile on my face. I remembered the morning before we first made love and how I'd done the same thing at the beach house.

So much had happened since then. I was happily married, settling into a home, and loving the idea of starting a family. My parents and I were getting along beautifully. We had lost Grandma Mazur after her heart attack two months ago, but she had been so happy with her life right up to the day she passed away that I couldn't mourn her too much, because I knew it was exactly what she wanted. I was blessed beyond measure with a great job that I loved, friends almost too many to count, and a husband who adored me more than I could have ever guessed or hoped for.

When Ranger first sent me on that assignment to Boston, I'd worried I would fail and not be able to train the staff or help Marco to come out of his self-imposed exile. I didn't think I was ready for a real relationship, and I never would have guessed that I was marriage material. And yet, I'd decided I was going to use the break from Trenton to look at myself and come back home a new woman – one that was stronger and more in control of her own life. As I heard the sound of Marco's footsteps, I couldn't help but smile.

It seemed I had managed to do that very thing. With the help of Rodriguez, I had come home a new woman, stronger, and more in control, because I'd learned there was strength in letting someone support you, and sometimes, allowing someone to join your journey was the greatest sort of control.

I opened the door of the bathroom and stopped there to see the man I loved waiting with his hands clasped between his knees. I strutted over and lifted his chin to look into his eyes. I needed to let him know he could stop me at any time, but I could tell from his expression, he understood that already.

Instead, I simply said, "It's still just you and me."

This time, it was his turn to add, "Forever."

Of course, that didn't mean every day of eternity had to be the same…now, where had I put that crop?

_A/N: I can't believe this story is finished. I say that everytime, but for Marco and Stephanie it seems espeically true. Of course, no story is developed without lots of help, and this was no exception. I am blessed beyond measure with a wonderful beta who gives of her time and excitement to keep me on track and typing away. And to all of you who took time out of your day to leave a review - thank you. Knowing that people were reading along and enjoying the journey of these characters meant so much. And for you Babes who began reading against your will, hiding behind disguises and swearing you could never see Stephanie with anyone but Ranger - thanks for giving Marco a chance. I have been blown away by your support. I'll be taking a week or two off to get these characters out of my head and then I'll be back with a new Ranger/Steph adventure. Hopefully you all will join me! ~Jennifer_


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